


Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham

by cattyk8



Series: Veronica Mars & the Justice League [1]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Bruce Wayne, BAMF Veronica Mars, Bruce Is a Good Bro, Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Bruce Wayne is a Good Bro, Bruce isn't Batman yet, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Epic Friendship, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Kidnapping, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Minor Nyssa al Ghul/Sara Lance, Missing Persons, Multiple Crossovers, No Romance, POV Veronica Mars, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne, Platonic Relationships, Protective Bruce Wayne, Snark, Veronica and Bruce are BFFs, Young Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-02 10:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 109,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15795003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cattyk8/pseuds/cattyk8
Summary: Bruce Wayne has been missing for four years, and the reward for information on his whereabouts is the biggest bounty ever offered. When an interested party hires teen sleuth Veronica Mars to find the wayward billionaire, she is quickly sucked into a world of sleazy businessmen and ninja assassins. [VM Post-S3; Batman origin story; Rated T for adult language/themes]





	1. Deal with the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> For people new to either Batman or Veronica Mars, I did my best to make sure the story works regardless of canon familiarity. Although you mightn't appreciate some of the cameos/easter eggs, you should still be able to follow the adventures of Bruce and Veronica (I hope!).
> 
> For Veronica Mars fans, this is canon-compliant until just before the end of season 3. 
> 
> For Batman fans, I play pretty fast and loose with Justice League and Batman history here, mishmashing stuff from the animated movies and series, the comics, and the Nolanverse. With a dash of Smallville and Arrowverse here and there, even, but mostly as setup for future installments in the series.
> 
> I also bring in some other popular TV shows (and the MCU) from time to time, but I’m not committing to crossovers to those outside of the occasional cameo, and obviously I don’t own anything.
> 
> Also, I wrote the entire story without a beta reader and will be posting daily as I self-edit/proofread, so please excuse any mistakes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica agrees to take on three cases for Jake Kane in exchange for three favors. She closes two cases quickly enough, but the third case is to find the country's most famous missing person: billionaire Bruce Wayne.

Veronica Mars, private investigator extraordinaire, watches with a lip curled up in disgust as software billionaire Jake Kane welcomes his son and granddaughter home after they’ve been on the run for the better part of two years. The press eats up the show of sentiment, though the teenage investigator seated in the back of the waiting limo is pretty sure the only genuine smile is that of the blond toddler being embraced by her doting grandfather in front of the Kane Software private jet.

The return of Duncan Kane after all federal kidnapping charges against him were dropped are sure to be front-page news, especially considering the recent scandal and arrest of his daughter’s maternal grandparents for child abuse as well as a string of other charges related to their having been top members of an active honest-to-goodness cult.

Billionaire and scion answer a few of the questions called out from the mob of reporters before allowing Clarence Wiedman, Kane Software’s head of security and Veronica’s main point of contact (she refuses to think of him as either her boss or her employer), to usher them toward the limo. Just before the door opens, Veronica scoots so she won’t be caught by any wandering eyes or camera lenses. The Kanes pile in, C.W. climbs into the front passenger seat, and a moment later, the limo is pulling away from the tarmac and headed back to Neptune, California.

Veronica smiles and meets the eyes of the only Kane she gives a damn about. The two-year-old smiles back shyly as she peers at her from her position tucked into her father’s side.

“Hi Veronica,” Duncan says warmly. “I understand Lilly and I have you to thank for our homecoming.”

“What can I say? Your father made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“Veronica,” Jake Kane says warningly.

She clenches her fists, counts to ten. Reminds herself why she’s here today. Lets out a breath. “Introduce me to my goddaughter,” she says in as even a voice as she can manage.

Both men stare at her for a long moment. She holds Jake’s gaze until he drops his. “Lilly,” he says slowly. “This is your aunt Veronica.”

“Aunt Wonica?”

Veronica smiles at the child, who watches the teen detective with soft brown eyes inherited from the mother she’d never get to meet. “Yeah, I’m your Aunt Veronica,” she says. “I was friends with your mom and best friends with your dad’s sister, your Aunt Lilly.”

“She knows who you are from, uh, pictures,” Duncan says. He turns to the child. “Why don’t you go and give your Aunt Veronica a hug?”

For what it’s worth, Veronica muses, her douchebag ex appears to be a decent dad. That, she supposes, is worth a lot. For Lilly’s sake, she’s glad of it. So there’s no venom in her voice when she addresses him now. “Thanks, Duncan.”

The little girl wiggles off the seat of the limo and teeters toward Veronica, who moves closer so she can catch her in a hug. “Aunt Wonica!”

“That’s me, sweetie!” she says, inhaling the sweet baby scent as she folds her arm around the tiny blond angel who is the spitting image of her namesake, the late, great, and fabulous Lilly Kane. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Veronica leaves the Kane mansion (not, incidentally, the one she’d grown up visiting back in the days when she, Lilly and Duncan Kane, and Logan Echolls had been known as Neptune’s Fab Four) as soon as they arrive. Once safely behind her desk at the Mars Investigations office that is now hers and hers alone, she closes her eyes and thinks about all the stupid things she has done to land in the position she now finds herself in.

After unwittingly participating in a not-quite-sex video filmed in her boyfriend’s dorm room at Hearst College, she had tracked down the guy responsible, only to find out he was not only the scion of a Russian mob family but a member of the Castle, a secret society of power players recruited from Hearst as well as Stanford University. She’d stolen a hard drive containing some very sensitive information about the members of the Castle, not realizing until it was too late that the mansion she’d stolen it from belonged to the father of her long-dead best friend and on-the-run ex-boyfriend. At which point the shit had hit the proverbial fan.

She’d gotten caught, and her father, then acting sheriff of Balboa County, had destroyed evidence for her sake. The prosecutor had filed charges against him instead, a move guaranteed to tank his efforts in the upcoming elections even if he’d gotten off. Meanwhile, Logan Echolls, Veronica’s ex-boyfriend, had delivered a very public beatdown on the Russian mobster boy, who had promptly threatened Logan with a very nasty death.

All in all, it had been a very shitty freshman year.

Veronica had made a last-ditch attempt to fix things by blackmailing Jake with the information she’d gotten her hacker friend to pull from the hard drive, but he’d told her it was too late for a quick fix. The following morning, after she’d seen her father dragged through the mud in the local papers and news channels, he’d sent Wiedman to her with a counter offer.

Jake, Wiedman had told her, was in the position to do three things for her. The first was wipe the not-sex video from the internet and from any data drive connected to the internet (something Veronica’s hacker friend Mac had told her wasn’t supposed to be possible). The second, make the DA drop the charges against Keith Mars and ensure his election as sheriff (that this would possibly be accomplished as much via electoral fraud as from Jake’s public support of him went unmentioned). And the third, make sure the Sorokin crime syndicate knew Logan Echolls was not to be harmed in any way.

In return, Jake wanted three things from her. One, find a way to allow him to bring his son and granddaughter home. Duncan had fled the country with his daughter in their senior year of high school after Lilly’s mother, Meg Manning, had died and the Mannings had refused to let him take custody of the baby. Veronica smiles to herself because while she’d have happily left Duncan to rot, she would’ve done this for free for little Lilly’s sake as well as for Meg’s. Thanks to Jake’s resources, Wiedman’s connections, and a lot of hustling on her part, she’s accomplished this in a little over four months.

The second thing Jake wanted was for Veronica to find leverage on his estranged wife Celeste, so he could divorce her without losing the billions he’d made since their marriage despite his years-long infidelity with his high school sweetheart. Who happened to be none other than Veronica’s own mother. As Veronica and her father had spent the last few years earning a living out of spousal disputes, this task had taken less than a month to complete. As Celeste had always been a bitch and a half to her, Veronica feels no guilt for her part in ensuring Neptune’s ice queen will walk away from her marriage with a settlement in seven digits instead of nine.

Which leaves the third task, which Veronica has made very little headway in, and which she understands the reasons for not at all.

“Find Bruce Wayne,” Wiedman told her all those months ago.

Veronica had known who Bruce Wayne was, of course. Although she’d been a toddler herself when the murder of billionaires Thomas and Martha Wayne in front of their eight-year-old son and only child had made headlines around the world, it was a case her dad had followed over the years. And Veronica, always a daddy’s girl, had been reading up on cases and investigation techniques since grade school, so it was only natural that she’d become interested in the Waynes as well. Finding out Lilly was a distant cousin of Martha Wayne nee Kane had only deepened Veronica’s interest, especially when the murderer had been released and Bruce Wayne had disappeared not long afterward.

“Why?” Veronica had asked Wiedman. “I mean, he’s been missing for years, since before Lilly died.” Sometimes Veronica thinks her life has two eras: Before Lilly’s Death and After Lilly’s Death. The Wayne heir’s had disappeared a few months before her world had tilted on its axis and she’d lost her best friend.

“He has been missing for four years. On the fifth anniversary of his disappearance, the board of Wayne Enterprises will likely move to have him declared dead in absentia. It’s likely he’ll leave his shares of WE to his butler. Mr. Kane would prefer that didn’t happen.”

“He wants a share? I thought their connection was several times removed?”

“It is. This isn’t about their familial connection.”

“I’m guessing that means Jake has a stake in Wayne Enterprises.” Because of course it was about money and not family where Jake was concerned. Bruce Wayne was probably a shareholder of Kane Software too, for that matter.

“Take the deal, Ms. Mars.” Wiedman’s refusal to confirm her suspicion only served to strengthen them, of course. “You won’t get a better one. Mr. Kane is also prepared to fund any expenses relevant to your investigations on his behalf as well as pay your monthly retainer to ensure you are focused on his cases and his alone. I will also be assisting you. Finally, as you may be aware, there is a large reward for anyone who can find Bruce Wayne. You would be able to claim this for yourself.”

After being run out of office following Lilly’s murder, Veronica’s dad had paid the bills by doing private investigations and bringing in bail jumpers. And while Bruce Wayne was not a criminal, the so-called Wayne Bounty was the largest in history, even topping those of the world’s worst super villains and terrorists.

“What makes you think I can do something every reporter and bounty hunter has been trying to do for the past four years? And do it before the five-year mark?”

“It is not necessary to accomplish this task before the fifth-year anniversary. It is preferable, of course, but several safeguards will be set in place, and it’s likely the butler would be happy to sign any properties and holdings over to his master should he return from the dead. Although the question of whether the reward will continue to be offered, in which case, Mr. Kane is willing to reward you with five percent the offered bounty.”

Which was still over two million dollars. Veronica bit down on the urge to whistle. “What happens if he really is dead? Or if I’m not able to find him? Does Jake expect me to put my life on hold forever?”

“No, but Mr. Kane would like you working on his cases full time up until the fifth-year anniversary, by which point, he expects you to have accomplished the first two tasks. You would then be expected to work part-time, presuming that the rest of your time is taken up by your education, until the seventh-year anniversary of Bruce Wayne’s disappearance, by which point several of the safeguards likely to be placed may become problematic. If you are able to find the boy within this timeframe, Mr. Kane is willing to offer you half a million dollars as an incentive. If not, you will be required to work on another case of Mr. Kane’s choosing before you can consider your obligation fulfilled.”

Veronica heard what Wiedman wasn’t saying, of course. If she didn’t accomplish all three tasks before the set deadlines, it would be open season on her dad and Logan, and her not-sex video would once more become available on the internet. Veronica closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She already knew what she would have to do. Video aside, this was her dad’s career, possibly his freedom. More than that, it was _Logan’s life_.

“Tell Mr. Kane he’s got a deal. What do I need to sign to get started?” And that had been that. Plus a mountain of paperwork, of course. Because confidentiality. And money. And all that jazz. But she’d hit the ground running not three days later. And Jake had delivered on his promises.

It was that thought that held her firm in the face of her friends’ confusion when she told them she wasn’t enrolling for her sophomore year at Hearst. She knew both Mac Mackenzie and Wallace Fennel suspected it had something to do with the sex tape, maybe Logan’s famous cafeteria beatdown, maybe even her subsequent breakup with her equally unwilling sex tape co-star, Piz. She let them come to their own conclusions. Logan probably wouldn’t have fallen for it, but she’d already told him he was out of her life, and apparently he believed her because he avoided her as much as she did him.

Her dad had been shocked, then furious, then disappointed when she’d told him, especially when he found out she would be working for the Kanes. He’d been suspicious about Jake Kane’s complete turnaround right before the special elections. Still, Veronica had already decided “neither confirm nor deny” was the best way to go. She diverted him instead by telling him about what she was doing. And of course, Keith Mars was enthralled by the idea of hunting down Bruce Wayne.

So once he got over his disappointment and got her to promise not to give up her future prospects in case this turned out to be a wild goose chase, father and daughter actually ended up working on the case, when Veronica wasn’t focused on the other two tasks Jake had set for her and Keith wasn’t working on whipping the Balboa County Sheriff’s Department back into shape after years of mismanagement under Don Lamb. So all in all, things went better than Veronica had had any right to expect.

She’d even gotten to go on the 12-week FBI internship she’d been confirmed for before the end of the school year. Since Duncan’s case had been handled by the Bureau, the internship had been convenient for the case. Wiedman’s connections as a formal special agent and an old friend of the director’s had gotten Veronica assignments in departments she otherwise wouldn’t have so much as passed the doors of, much to the envy of her fellow interns. This included not only the Kidnappings and Missing Persons Unit, which their efforts were focused on, but, for the sake of red herrings, she’d also spent some time with the Violent Crimes, the Cyber Crimes and the Behavioral Analysis units.

She’d learned a lot. She’d accomplished a lot. Some of the agents she’d shadowed and worked with had pushed her to try for Quantico when she graduated. A few had even offered to write letters of recommendation, which had made Veronica thoroughly ashamed of herself, considering the less-than-legal tampering she had to do on Duncan’s case file. Not to mention how she got access to the files on the cult the Mannings had joined.

She’d beaten the deadline for the first two tasks by eight months. Which meant that she had the rest of the year to do nothing but focus on the third. And while she didn’t know anything that hadn’t been turned up by other hunters and investigators, she at least could be proud of the fact that she knew pretty much everything everyone else had found out.

Her dad still helped her chase down leads in his spare time; he also contributed his own theories and speculations and served as a sounding board for her ideas about what to do next. She’d co-opted her friend Mac’s services as a hacker—and had even managed to make sure Jake footed the bill. She’d read everything she could find on Wayne, his friends, his connections, even his family history, which incidentally could be traced back to the Crusades. In the process, she’d also learned quite a bit about Gotham City, which the Wayne family seemed to have built almost from the ground up. She’d even found fan fiction about the guy, which was weird, but she read it anyway.

Happily, Jake Kane and Clarence Wiedman are not as present in her life after Duncan’s return. They are satisfied with reports on her progress investigating Bruce Wayne’s disappearance, but don’t appear to be too invested in finding out the details. All they want to know is how close she’s getting to finding out where he is. They approve Veronica’s expense claims without question, and reduce their in-person reports from once a week to once a month.

Were she anyone else, Veronica might use this as an excuse to ease up on the case. Instead, with her focus undivided, she buckles down and soon finds herself completely entrenched in the mystery of Bruce Wayne’s disappearance.

Four months after taking Jake Kane’s deal, Veronica is probably one of the world’s experts on the subject of missing billionaire Bruce Wayne. And without any evidence whatsoever apart from a gut feeling that has been misinterpreted but has never failed her in the past, she knows two things about the guy: he’s alive, and she is going to find him.


	2. Getting the Dirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica goes to Gotham and learns a little more about its tragic prince. She meets his butler, among other people, and uncovers a lead.

Everyone knows Bruce Wayne’s story begins in Gotham. And, as far as what is verifiable, it ends there as well—the last time anyone can remember seeing Bruce Wayne, he was 19 and walking away from the courthouse where his parents’ murderer was gunned down by a local mobster.

Jake’s connections help her get appointments with Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne butler and Bruce’s guardian after his parents’ death, and Lucius Fox, an old friend of the Waynes’ who was on the board of Wayne Enterprises. The meeting with Pennyworth will be at Wayne Manor and is scheduled five days after Veronica lands in Gotham; the meeting with Fox, at Wayne Tower, is set for the day after.

But Veronica isn’t in Gotham to sightsee. Instead she hits the ground running and chases down several of the Wayne heir’s old classmates and teachers, ruthlessly employing a surplus of charm when she can and sheer bullheadedness when that fails. Gothamites, she finds, respond to a peculiar combination of both the stick and the carrot when it comes to persuasion.

Still, it helps her paint a picture—or, rather, build a profile—of the young Bruce Wayne. Always brilliant and years ahead of his peers, the Wayne scion had been slightly mischievous yet also very sweet and notably kind before the death of his parents. One of the nurses who had worked at the free clinic where Dr. Thomas Wayne had frequently donated his time and services tells Veronica of a boy who would visit the kids in the children’s area, who’d charmed and comforted prostitutes and homeless people in the clinic’s always crowded waiting room.

“He always came with an armload of toys to ‘lend’ to the other kids when he visited, and he always went home empty-handed,” the old nurse says with a sad smile. “Dr. Thomas used to joke they’d have to by stocks in a toy company, because his son was forever emptying out the nursery.”

After his parents’ death, Bruce had become quiet, withdrawn. He’d been reprimanded at school for fighting several times, and several old faculty members at Gotham Academy agree that Bruce was brilliant but antisocial with definite anger management issues. Old classmates talk of him with resentment and not a little envy, calling him everything from distant or aloof to an “uppity brat who thought his money and last name made him better than everyone.” But one retired teacher grows silent for a long moment when Veronica asks him about Bruce’s frequent fights and suspensions.

“You know, Ms. Mars, in all my years teaching, I’ve learned that children can be some of the most carelessly cruel people,” he tells her slowly. “And there were a few who were very cruel to that boy when they thought the teachers couldn’t see it. But he never lifted a finger against them.”

Veronica frowns. “So he didn’t get into fights? They’re in his school records.”

The old man raises his eyebrows at that, and Veronica smiles sheepishly. She’s not supposed to know what’s in Bruce Wayne’s school records. “Oh, he did, and often with boys bigger than himself or in groups while he was alone,” the old man says mildly. “But the bullies didn’t mess with him, other than to insult him as he passed or make up lies behind his back. And as I’ve already told you, he didn’t seem to care about any of that. Yet he’d seek them out.”

Huh. “Do you know why?”

“I couldn’t say, of course. But I imagine if you were to ask some of the younger students who went to the Academy at the time, they might offer a different story than his classmates and the upper classmen did.”

So Veronica does, of course. She only finds a few who are willing to speak to her. And while a couple of them sing the same tune Bruce’s classmates did, three of them employ tactics Veronica recognizes easily enough, from how often she’s been using them lately: they neither confirm nor deny the story everyone was telling.

Three days after she arrives, she manages to meet with Detective Jim Gordon of the Gotham City Police Department. Veronica’s research has made it clear that there is no sector of public service that isn’t riddled with corruption in this town, and the GCPD is a particularly rotten apple in a bushel of bad fruit. Yet it seems she may have found one of the few uncorrupted members of Gotham’s police force; there is nothing in Gordon’s background check or financials that indicate he’s on the take. In fact, his very obvious unpopularity hint at just the opposite.

Within minutes of meeting him at a coffee shop around the corner from GCPD HQ, Veronica knows Jim Gordon is one of the good guys. More importantly, he’s remained one of the good guys through over a decade of service. Despite its best efforts, it seems, there are a few good people Gotham City hasn’t eaten alive. He reminds her of a sadder, more exhausted Keith Mars, Veronica thinks as they exchange pleasantries. She’s pretty sure her dad would like him, and vice versa.

As if he knows exactly what she is thinking, he comments, “I met your father when he stopped here on his book tour.” He smiles briefly, his tired eyes warm. “I’ve read it a couple of times, and I’ve followed your career and his over the past couple of years. I mean, solving a big case like the Lilly Kane murder before you were even out of high school. And that’s not mentioning your part in getting to the bottom of that bus crash and the Woody Goodman scandal.”

Veronica grimaces. “The truth is there’s a lot about investigation I wish I’d known then. Maybe if I’d gotten it right, Aaron Echolls would be in prison. Instead, he was living large a year later, and probably would’ve jumped right back into his old lifestyle if he hadn’t died.”

“Well, it seems to me you did your best when people with more resources than you did were doing their best to cover things up, and the people who should’ve solved the case were either on the take, edged out of the investigation, or just plain incompetent.” Gordon smiles at her kindly. “And the way I figure it, if that’s what you could do at sixteen and seventeen, I’m looking forward to what you do next.”

Veronica is red with embarrassment at his praise. “Thanks, Detective Gordon.”

He chuckles. “Though I imagine that’s something that scares the shit out of your dad as much as it makes him proud. If my daughter has half the trouble you did when she hits high school, I’m not sure I’d survive it.”

She smirks. “My dad blames me for his premature baldness. He wasn’t happy about me flying here this week either, especially without him.”

“So is it a case that brings you to Gotham?”

Veronica nods. She decides to lay her cards (well, most of them, anyway) on the table. “I’ve been asked to look for Bruce Wayne by an interested party.”

The detective’s eyes narrow. “Interested how? I’m sure you’ve done your homework, so you know the interest in Wayne, outside of the very large reward his butler offered for his return, hasn’t always been aligned with the boy’s continued health.”

She’s not offended by his suspicion. Even before he left, Bruce Wayne had had his share of kidnappings and death threats. “My client wants the Wayne heir to return and reclaim his legacy,” she says. “I wouldn’t be working for them if they wanted to hurt him, or worse. They want him back in charge of the Wayne fortune and on the board of Wayne Enterprises.”

Gordon thinks about that for a moment, then finally nods. “So Jake Kane hired you to find Wayne before he can be declared dead.”

“Jake Kane?”

“I’m not stupid, and while Gotham keeps me busy and then some, I keep up with the news. I’m pretty sure it’s not a coincidence that evidence against the parents of a billionaire’s son’s baby mama turned up just when he and his suits petitioned to have the kidnapping charges against Duncan Kane dropped. Jake Kane has also been suddenly and loudly vocal in his support of your dad’s reelection as sheriff. He’s probably the only connection you have with Wayne, who is a major shareholder in Kane Software. And while he’s got skin in the game, it’s not in his best interests if the boy turns up dead or insane.”

“Insane?”

Gordon shrugs. “I’m sure you know one of the pervading rumors isn’t that Wayne is missing, but that he’s locked up in a sanitarium somewhere.”

She is well aware of these rumors, but hasn’t been able to find any evidence that gives them any weight whatsoever. “And this makes you think Jake Kane is my client?”

“Pretty much. Any of the other players who fit the bill would’ve gone with an East Coast investigator. So it’s Jake Kane of the California Kanes or bust.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Veronica says, tilting her head and allowing a small smile to play at her lips. “I’m sure you understand. Client confidentiality and all that.”

The detective barks out a laugh. “You’ve got style, kid,” he says. “Better yet, you’ve got brains.”

“Oh, stop it. Now you’re just embarrassing me!”

Gordon laughs again. Then he sobers. “Well, I guess if anyone’s going to find Wayne, it’d be better if it was someone like you.”

Veronica’s eyes sharpen. “You don’t think he’s dead either. Or insane, for that matter.”

“Gotham isn’t really a town that’s compatible with sanity for the most part,” Gordon say slowly. “But I knew that kid before he left on that world university tour. He’s been hit by more crap any kid his age should have any business dealing with, but he dealt with it better than anyone could’ve expected. So if there’s one thing Bruce Wayne isn’t, it’s insane. And if there’s one thing I had to say about a kid I met on the worst day of his life? It’s that he’s a survivor.”

Veronica nods. “That’s my take too. And from what I understand, he’s a pretty good guy along with it.”

“So how can I help you?”

“Well, I’ve been doing research for the past few months, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about cases like this, it’s that you never know what information could be useless and what might solve the whole thing. I mean, with Lilly, it was the fact that she hid her secrets in her air vents. Something I never thought to check in the months I’d been investigating. Turns out the evidence was gathering dust there all along.”

“I get it.”

“So I’d like you to tell me whatever you can about Bruce Wayne. Your interactions with him—I know you were one of the first officers on scene at his parents’ murder.”

“Yeah, my first DBs as a cop, wouldn’t you know. I hadn’t been out of the academy a month.”

“Tell me about it?”

So he does. They refill their coffees twice as they talk, Veronica often stopping him to clarify some things based on her research and previous interviews, or ask him questions about his own impressions or suspicions. They’re sharing dinner almost two hours later before Veronica can think of nothing else to ask him about.

“You know, the guy you really need to talk to is Alfred Pennyworth.”

Veronica nods. “I’ve got an appointment with him the day after tomorrow. Any advice on dealing with him? I got from how you spoke about him earlier that he’s impressed you.”

“Well, let’s just say that if you’re looking to find Bruce Wayne, he’s likely to be either your biggest asset or your biggest obstacle. He’s got a better bullshit meter than I do, so if you were planning on playing an angle with him, I’d suggest rethinking that.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Gordon’s advice, Veronica learns two days later, is gold. Alfred Pennyworth is uncannily intuitive, and for all his British politeness, Veronica gets the impression he is more scarily competent than Clarence Wiedman. When she gives him her usual “neither confirm nor deny” line about the identity of her client, he just nods as if she’d told him everything about Jake Kane and her own bargain with him.

Still, she likes him. A lot. Even if he offers her tea instead of coffee. At ten-thirty in the morning. She tries not to think that she should’ve stopped at a Starbucks before coming to Wayne Manor. Although a go-cup would’ve looked distinctly out of place here.

Wayne Manor is quite possibly the biggest, most opulent house she’s ever seen, even counting the stuff she’s seen on TV. Every wall, every corner, speaks of wealth—speaks it rather than screams it the way the mansions in Neptune do. There is history here, and a richness of experience rather than just material. So Veronica sips her Earl Grey without complaint.

When the butler, a surprisingly well-built gentleman in his late forties, settles down across from her, she asks him to tell her about Bruce Wayne. He merely lifts an eyebrow. “Perhaps, Miss Mars, it would be better if you told me what you knew about Master Bruce instead.”

“Will you answer my questions if I do?”

“If it lets you find evidence he is alive and well? Most certainly.”

She narrows her eyes. “Proof of life? That’s really all you’re looking for? Not his return?”

The lack of expression on the butler’s face speaks volumes. “I can’t imagine you’d be here without knowing the terms of the reward being offered.”

She smirks. “You’d actually be wrong about that. Although I do have to admit, the reward is excellent incentive.”

“Hmm. Well, if it clears things up, I’m perfectly happy for Master Bruce to stay wherever he prefers. But I’d rather he at least kept me apprised of his continued existence, if only to silence the nattering of the board of Wayne Enterprises, if not the press.”

“And reassure your worries.” When the butler only raises his eyebrow at her once more, she grins. “You don’t fool me, Mr. Pennyworth. I know a worried dad when I see one.”

“I was merely Master Bruce’s guardian, a duty I was discharged of when he came of age. He had a father, a good one.”

“Uh huh. Looks like he had two. Still has one. Family isn’t always about blood, and if he doesn’t know that, I’d be happy to hit him over the head with it when I find him for you. So okay, cards on the table.” And Veronica tells him everything she knows. Which is quite a lot. She leaves out the anecdotes she’s collected, opting instead to deliver the facts like a verbal report. After several months working with Wiedman, this is something she’s used to doing.

Still, she has gathered quite a bit of information, and hasn’t been able to sort through some of what she’s learned this week by relevance just yet. Plus, the butler stops her from time to time to ask questions or to correct assumptions or misinformation. By the time she runs out of steam, it’s over an hour later, and Mr. Pennyworth—or Alfred, as she’s been invited to call him—is inviting her to lunch.

Over a truly divine soup and some superior sandwiches, Alfred begins to tell her about Bruce. Veronica isn’t sure when she stopped thinking of him as “Bruce Wayne” or “Wayne” in her head, but it isn’t something she cares to look too deeply into. She listens avidly to the older man’s stories. Hears about how Bruce started taking lessons in martial arts not long after the death of his parents. How his teachers had all remarked on his gifts for picking up skills and mastering them.

Alfred doesn’t tell her how proud he is of his brilliant charge, but Veronica hears it anyway. And when he clears the dishes and offers her more tea—but this time with cookies, which he insists on calling biscuits—she’s pretty sure she’s convinced him of both her intentions and her determination, if not her ability to chase down the boy he’s dedicated his life to serving.

“I suspect you will find Master Bruce by following his interests,” Alfred says after a while. He takes a sip from his own teacup. He’s served a different kind of tea this time, one he identifies as Assam when Veronica asks him about it. She’s not sure of the significance, but she’s pretty convinced it means he might just like her.

Veronica nods. “Yeah, I took a look at the courses he was studying at all those universities. Cambridge, the Sorbonne, MIT, Princeton…. He didn’t stay long enough to earn any degrees or, it seems, make many friends, but I got the gist of what he was looking to learn. Nobody studies psychological profiling, criminology, forensic sciences, and all the other stuff he signed up for just for kicks.”

She smiles. “You don’t have to confirm or deny anything, but I think I’ve got a pretty solid theory. He’s got either justice or vengeance on the brain. And given all the martial arts he’s been training in, I’m pretty sure he’s got it in his head to become some kind of crime fighter.”

“Perhaps he is merely looking for a way to understand the circumstances that have shaped his life,” the butler says mildly.

“Now, Alfred, I told you everything I know about this case, more than I’ve even told my client. Mostly because you can help, but also because I know you’re interested and _invested_. I am too. So please don’t insult us both by deflecting.” She tilts her head at him and smiles sunnily. “After all, we both want him to come home to you.”

Alfred’s lips twitch just the slightest bit, but she knows she’s won. “All right, Miss Veronica. What do you want to know?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Veronica spends the rest of the afternoon with the butler, eventually leaving with a promise to send him updates on her investigation. She suspects Alfred has spoken with Lucius Fox as well, as the man is downright accommodating when she meets him the next day.

She learns a lot, the most important thing being that Wayne Enterprises is doing very well (which she already knew), but its growth and the achievement of several of the goals set by Thomas Wayne and his predecessors are hindered by the absence of a Wayne at the helm.

She knows Fox is considered something of a modern-day Midas, but he explains to her that to do business in Gotham is to embrace both Old World sensibilities with New World ingenuity. And while Fox may be well-equipped to push Wayne Enterprises into the future, the company needs at least a figurehead to rally behind and reassure investors and prospective business partners that they have not turned their backs on tradition.

So she leaves that meeting with a better understanding of why Jake Kane is so invested in seeing Bruce Wayne back in Gotham. Or at the very least, among the living.

Alfred’s mention of a Dr. Leslie Thompkins, a close friend of Thomas and Martha Wayne, sends Veronica to the Narrows to meet with the doctor in the free clinic she runs there. Like Fox, the doctor is more than happy to talk about Bruce and his parents, and Veronica knows this would not be the case without Alfred’s support.

Which is why she knows who to thank when she gets a lead.

The free clinic’s payroll and day-to-day operations are supported by the Wayne Foundation, but there hasn’t been a fundraising event for new equipment and the like has been four years, just a little longer than Bruce Wayne (who had always made it a point to be present for such things, if not host them himself in his parents’ honor) has been missing. Yet the clinic’s facilities are excellently equipped and maintained.

Dr. Thompkins tells Veronica they’ve recently had another regular donor company which has taken to providing the clinic with funds for the upkeep and updating of equipment on a regular basis. Regular as in scheduled—payments are made on the first day of every quarter, without fail. Veronica does some digging and finds that the company supports other charities in much the same way, and every one of these charities is also supported by the Wayne Foundation.

“Follow the money” isn’t just a cliché for mysteries the world over. It’s pretty much an investigative constant. So a week after Veronica comes to Gotham, she is on the phone with one of her two best friends.

“Mac, my queen of all things digital, Q to my Bond, my hacker goddess!” she singsongs when her call is answered.

“What do you want, Veronica?” Mac’s voice is amused, and Veronica is suddenly homesick.

“I need you to trace a company for me. Find out who’s funding it.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy.”

Veronica gives her friend all the details she can. The next day, she is emailing Wiedman a report on her findings when Mac calls her back.

“So you know how you asked me to look into that company?”

“Yep,” Veronica says, popping the P at the end of the word.

“Ya think you could’ve warned me that it was a shell company that’s a subsidiary of another shell company, which is a subsidiary of yet another shell company? It’s like one of those little Russian nesting dolls.”

“Hmm. I didn’t know that it was. Although I have a few suspicions about who might be behind it.”

“Of course you do. But this is me telling you that apart from the normal fee for my services, you now owe me a stack of cookies, because I haven’t slept in over 24 hours and have missed four classes thanks to this little project.”

“You got it,” Veronica says. “Now hit me.”

“The company’s money trail ends with Bruce Wayne.”

“Yes!” In the privacy of her hotel room, Veronica has no compunctions about jumping up, pumping a fist into the air, and having herself a little victory dance. “Is it enough to prove he’s alive?”

“Not the donations, since he set them up while he was jumping from university to university, and all payments have been prescheduled into perpetuity, or until the money runs out.”

“Which isn’t gonna happen soon, I’m guessing.”

“What do you think? But you should know, I traced the funds, and he’s not funding it through the accounts associated with the Wayne fortune or his inheritance from his mom. Apparently he inherited a third fortune from his uncle, Nathan Kane, and that’s what he’s using to fund the charities.”

“Huh. Okay, interesting, but how is this relevant?”

“I found other baby shell companies, which have a few employees who don’t appear to exist, yet have been withdrawing from payroll accounts on a fairly regular basis for the past four years, although I haven’t seen any activity on those accounts for the past three months.”

“So they could be aliases he’s been using.”

“Looks like.”

“Can you get me the details on withdrawal locations and dates? And any credit cards issued to these aliases as well as properties rented or owned to them?”

“Please, have some respect. Remember who you’re talking to.”

“Of course, Q! I didn’t mean to ask if you could do it. I meant to ask when I could have the info.”

“Give me a few days, maybe a week. And Bond?”

“Yeah?”

“If I get caught, you are using one of those get-out-of-jail-free cards you’re always throwing Weevil and Logan’s way.”

“Now who’s disrespecting whom and forgetting who she’s talking to?”

“Touché, V, touché.”

 


	3. Veronica Eats Breadcrumbs for Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica meets a couple of kickass women as she traces Bruce’s footsteps across the country.

A week later, Veronica is back in Neptune and in possession of a list of twenty-five names Bruce Wayne appears to be using as aliases. She’s also never known her friend Mac to swear quite as much as she has in the past seven days because the billionaire, on top of everything else, appears to be a halfway decent hacker. Mac has her work cut out for her avoiding detection as she helps Veronica gather the data she needs.

Veronica finds herself with a crazy timeline. It seems Bruce Wayne has spent the four years bouncing around the globe, never staying anywhere for more than two or three months. Within the United States alone, he’s spent time in Washington DC, and Los Angeles as well as a couple of smaller towns and cities. She’s also tracked him to cities in Europe, Asia, and South America. There doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason for his travels, and she wonders how he decides where to go next.

She remembers Alfred’s suggestion that she track his interests, and it seems her hunch about Bruce’s intentions of going into crime fighting are correct, as all his aliases seem to be inspired in some way by famous fictional detectives and the authors who invented them.

So she drives up to Los Angeles, where Colin Morse (inspired by the fictional Inspector Morse, hero of Colin Dexter’s novels) worked as a general go-fer three years ago. It’s strange, as Veronica can’t imagine what he would learn from the Hollywood crowd, and no one seems to remember him.

Finally, she meets one of the studio’s regular makeup artists, who tells her of “Cole,” who was really interested in learning how to apply disguises. Veronica learns from his next-door neighbor that he’d signed up for acting classes, but never bothered to try to find an agent or try out for any casting calls.

She tracks him to several towns and smaller cities across the East Coast and Midwest, and she finds these tended to coincide with the route Haley’s Circus took. She books a flight to catch their next show and to ask if anyone remembers a man-of-all-work they hired two years before who went by the name of Dixon Hardy. She finds herself stonewalled by people who watch her with suspicious eyes and are unwilling to offer more than the sparest details.

It takes her several days, but she eventually appeals to acrobat Mary Grayson, telling her about the boy who’d lost his parents at the age of eight—the same age Mary’s son Dick is at the moment—and saying that his guardian only wants to know that “Dixon” is alive.

“He only stayed that one summer. A lot of folks do that, hire on for a season before moving on. Mostly I don’t bother learning their names, but this boy got my John to show him a few moves,” Mary says.

John is her husband. They, along with their son and John’s brother and nephew, are the Flying Graysons, a world renowned acrobatic and trapeze act.

Mary smiles fondly. “John said he was good, picked it up really fast. Maybe faster if he didn’t spend so much time with Zatara.”

Zatara is a magician who has since gone on to become a solo act. Veronica flies to Las Vegas to catch his show and meet him. He is polite, but says he’s been out of contact since Bruce—and he is aware of the true identity of the boy he once mentored—left the circus. Veronica asks him what he taught Bruce to do, and on a whim finds herself extending her stay from a few days to a few weeks so she can learn a few tricks from the master escapist.

She meets Zatara’s daughter Zatanna, who is around her age. The girl is openly hostile at first, and Veronica suspects she he had romantic feelings toward Bruce. She also suspects that, given the girl’s age, this never evolved into a full relationship. So she pretends to be oblivious to the other girl’s animosity, then decides to play out a hunch and chatters on about her very complicated love life.

Zatanna is fascinated by Veronica’s bad luck in love; frankly, Veronica feels like her love life is something out of a crazy TV show. After all, her first boyfriend turned out to be her suspected brother—a suspicion only discovered and thankfully disproved post-breakup. Her second relationship lasted less than a month and crashed and burned when the guy turned out to be an amateur drug trafficker who already had a druggie girlfriend.

She accused her third boyfriend (“Really? _The_ Logan Echolls?” Zatanna squeals when Veronica tells her about him) of murdering her best friend and his ex-girlfriend, then found evidence the deed had actually been done by an Oscar-winning actor who just happened to be said boyfriend’s abusive father. Her fourth relationship was a failed return to her first boyfriend, only to find he’d knocked up one of her only friends before they’d gotten together, not to mention cheated on her with the stepmom of one of their classmates.

“Woah,” Zatanna says, awed. “It’s like your life is a soap opera. I would’ve sworn off men completely.”

“You’re smarter than I am then,” Veronica says. “At the end of senior year, I got back with Logan.”

“Well, that I understand. The guy is _hot_. Not Bruce hot, but I’ve seen pics of the guy.”

“Let me tell you a depressing truth about love, Zee. Unfortunately, the hotness of one’s boyfriend does not necessarily guarantee the success of a relationship.” Veronica pauses, then smirks. “Even though it does facilitate success in the bedroom.”

Zatanna laughs. “I’ll bet!”

“Anyway, we got together end of senior year, got through the first few months of freshman year at college, then broke up. Got together again after Christmas, then I found out that while we were broken up, he slept with the girl who made my life hell in high school and who tossed their Aspen Christmas fling in my face the first chance she got. So I broke up with him, and a couple weeks later, he’s got a new girlfriend, who just happens to be my best friend’s roommate and a friend of mine. So. Awkward.”

“Very.”

“So I got together with a sweet guy who happened to be the roommate of my other best friend.”

Zatanna frowns. “Rebound?”

“I wouldn’t have said so at the time, but hindsight’s 20/20, right? Also, looking back, I think he was just way too nice for me.”

“Right.”

“I hear the sarcasm in your voice, but the truth is, I’m kind of toxic to nice guys. Anyway, we broke up after he decided I wasn’t over Logan, which was after Logan beat him up for being the guy in my sex tape.”

“Your _what_?” Zatanna’s mouth is hanging open at this point.

“Well, there’s kind of a secret group at my college, kind of like the Dead Poets Society but without the poetry, ya know? And they were trying to recruit my BFF into it, you know, the one who was roommates with my boyfriend. They planted a video cam in the room without any of us knowing it, and when the boyfriend and I got hot and heavy one day, presto, sex video.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish. The fact that we never actually did the deed didn’t matter, because enough clothes came off and the video got emailed to just about every guy on campus. So now I’m officially off guys for a very, very long time.”

“So you’re not after Bruce because, because, well—” Zatanna blushes.

“Nope. I’m a private investigator. My client hired me to find him and prove he’s not dead for professional reasons. I also kind of want to do it cause I met Bruce’s guardian and he’s a sweet guy who’s really very worried that he hasn’t heard from him in four years. He deserves to know the boy he raised is still alive and kicking somewhere.”

“We don’t know where he is,” Zatanna says slowly. “After you arrived, I tried to find out, but something’s blocking me.”

Veronica frowns. “Find out how?”

Zatanna bites her lip, takes a few moments to make a decision, then sighs. “It’s probably better if I show you.”

Which is how Veronica finds out that magic is real. It’s also one of the things Bruce was learning about from Zatara—he didn’t have any magical ability himself, but he learned enough to know the basics of how magic works and what magic users are capable of, as well as how to identify true magic from magicians’ sleight-of-hand and illusions.

After almost a month in Vegas, Veronica returns to Neptune, California, with the realization that the universe (not to mention the multiverse) is a lot bigger and crazier than she realizes or could every understand.

Veronica’s next leads are all out on the East Coast. However, her Keith kicks up a fuss about how much daddy-daughter time he’s missed, and Veronica’s friends guilt her into staying put for at least a couple of weeks. She spends her time chasing down leads electronically and over the phone.

She’s learned, for example, that Bruce seems to have spent a couple of months shadowing a consulting detective for Scotland Yard. She’s been emailing his partner (or blogger?), a Dr. John Watson, but has not been able to get the detective to agree to a phone call or Skype session, try as she might.

She’s a bit frustrated as the last year of his life offers the least insight into what he’s been doing. She knows he was nearly imprisoned in Thailand as part of a human trafficking ring, only to disappear after key evidence against the real culprits turned up. She has her suspicions about where the police got the evidence, of course, but no proof.

His activities in Jaipur prove a complete mystery to her, but then he pops up in Southeast Asia, and his activities in Hong Kong, Indonesia, and the Philippines drop off immediately after the US Navy and the Philippine Armed Forces bust a black market weapons trading ring associated with terrorists and other militant groups in the area and in the Middle East.

That the operation is triggered by an anonymous tip makes Veronica’s gut burn, but again, she has no way to verify this, and she suspects it might not be cost effective to look into the matter more than she already has.

Finally, she flies out to the East Coast.

In New York, she meets champion boxer Ted Grant, who is also known as the Wildcat and is a former member of the Justice Society of America. He’s disgusted by her lack of anything but the most basic self-defense skills and her reliance on her trusty taser, and he spends the next few weeks having his student, Dinah Lance, teach her how to kickbox. He refuses to answer any of her questions until she proves she can protect herself against a basic mugger.

Dinah also urges her to sign up for classes in Krav Maga, and Veronica finds herself enjoying it far more than she expected to. She also really likes Dinah, who’s self-assured in her skills and her sexuality in a way Veronica can only envy. The other blonde is only a couple of years older, but Veronica finds herself quite enjoying the way Dinah treats her like a younger sister.

She learns later that Dinah’s actual younger sister, Sara, has missing and presumed dead for a year. The yacht she was on with famous billionaire douchebag Oliver Queen and his father capsized in a storm. That Queen was Dinah’s on-again-off-again boyfriend at the time threads anger and bitterness through Dinah’s grief, and Veronica plies her new friend with ice cream and her own matching tale of woe, courtesy of Lilly Kane and Logan Echolls. This serves to cement their sisterhood.

A month after she lands in La Guardia, she gets verbal confirmation from the Wildcat that Bruce really is on a hero/vigilante track, as the man shared some of his goals with his old mentor. What exactly was shared, though, is something Grant refuses to tell Veronica.

She heads down to Washington DC, where she meets the folks at the Lightman Group, who’ve turned lie detection into a science. When she learns about what they do, she knows exactly why “Sam Hammett” took a janitorial job with them.

Veronica spends a couple of weeks learning about body cues and micro expressions, and Dr. Cal Lightman tells her she’s one of the best natural liars he’s ever met. She doesn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted, but he waves this away and tells her it’s a skill to be used like any other.

The outspoken Brit gets a kick out of testing her and using her to test his team. When she leaves, he tells her to keep in touch and that she’ll have a job with him anytime she wants one.

She backtracks up to Gotham, where she spends an afternoon at Wayne Manor, sipping tea and regaling Alfred with the stories she’s collected about Bruce. Some of the worry eases as she is able to account for much of the time the guy has been missing, even if the use of aliases make them shaky cases for proof of life. Especially since most of the people she has spoken with either are unaware of Bruce’s true identity or unwilling to sign affidavits about their interactions with him.

Alfred actually proves very useful for some of the leads Veronica’s found abroad. He drops the bomb on her then: he’s former MI6, and he’s acquainted with Mycroft Holmes, the detective’s brother, who is some kind of bigwig in the British government, possibly their secret service.

Over the phone, the man confirms that Bruce shadowed Sherlock Holmes for two months, that Sherlock had deduced Bruce’s identity the same day they’d met, but had not seen the point in informing John Watson of it. Bruce evidently had been keen on learning Sherlock’s methods of deduction, and the two had established a rapport that had for some time earned Watson’s ire and envy.

At some point, Bruce had determined that he could learn little more from Sherlock, the skills he’d made being such that they are honed from practice rather than observation.

“He expressed some interest in the profession of man-hunting, and I believe was referred to a Henri Ducard, a French detective out of—”

“Paris?” Veronica asked excitedly. Bruce had been in Paris less than two years ago.

“Quite so.”  

“Do you know if he made contact? My investigation indicates he was in Paris for three months, up until about eighteen months ago.”

“Yes, that aligns with my information as well.”

“Awesome. Any chance you could save a girl a little time and get me contact details for Ducard?”

“Certainly, although I should warn you that he is not the most scrupulous of contacts. Be careful what you tell him, and verify anything he tells you before acting on it.”

Veronica frowns, and she sees her worry mirrored in Alfred’s gaze. “He’s a bad guy, then? Do you think he might’ve done something to Bruce Wayne?”

“No, I have it on good authority that Wayne booked a flight to Bangkok out of Paris and has not been in contact with Ducard since leaving. Unfortunately, the person who reported this to me had no reason to track him beyond that, so I cannot offer any further information beyond that.”

“You could find out, though?”

“I would need sufficient reason to do so.”

“We’d be happy to cover the costs of an investigation.” Veronica was sure by now that Jake would be willing to foot the bill for such a solid lead.

“These things aren’t a matter of financing, I’m afraid.”

Veronica frowns. “So what would it take?”

After a pause, Mycroft Holmes replies, “A case.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ms. Mars, I am aware of your profession and your abilities. Having been apprised of your accomplishments, I have a measure of respect for your potential. Thus, if we were to make a trade, I would employ the resources at my disposal to determine the whereabouts of Bruce Wayne, or at the very least, his last known location before dropping off the grid. Your last trace of him was approximately eight months ago, if the information in your casefiles is accurate.”

Veronica’s eyes narrow dangerously. “You hacked my casefiles?”

“Miss Mars, we’re the British government, and you have not the security your friend Ms. Mackenzie employs on her equipment. I assure you it was not ill-intentioned, although I should mention that given the waters you are swimming in, you might want to be on your guard against someone less well-intentioned. That being said, if you want my assistance on this matter, I would require in return that you work a case for me some time in the future, in rather similar terms to the deal you currently have with Mr. Kane.”

“How do you know about that?” Veronica demands.

“Why wouldn’t I know about that?”

Alfred coughs discreetly before Veronica can shoot back a retort. “Ah, Mycroft, would you mind if Miss Mars and I discuss your offer between us for now? We will be happy to get back to you within twenty-four hours.”

“Of course, Alfred. I’m sure you would feel remiss in your duties if you failed to warn her of the evils of making deals with individuals such as myself.”

“I’m glad we understand each other.”

“Until tomorrow then, Alfred. Miss Mars.”

“What an asshole.” Veronica blows out an exasperated breath. “Sorry. I know he’s your friend.”

“Former colleague,” Alfred corrects her. “On a personal level, we are significantly less than friends, but somewhat more than acquaintances.”

Veronica offers him a lopsided smile. “Although I’m definitely going to beef up my computer’s security once I get home, after that.”

“It would seem prudent to do so, Miss Veronica.”

“When am I going to get you to just call me Veronica, Alfie?”

The butler allows himself a smile. “When Master Bruce succeeds in getting me to call him Bruce, I suppose.”

“So basically when pigs fly.”

“Just so, Miss Veronica.”

“What dire warnings do you need to give me?” Veronica asks, smiling. “Best deliver them so I can find a hotel before nightfall instead of driving up to New York.”

“Please, Miss Veronica, it’s a simple matter to make up a room. I’d already planned to ask you to stay for dinner and then stay the night before we even ended the call.”

“I won’t put you through the trouble, Alfred. I’m perfectly happy in a hotel.”

“I insist. Besides, you wouldn’t want to leave an old man to finish a pan of lasagna all on his own.” Alfred is implacable, and in the end, Veronica gives in. She suspects he knew she would. She tells herself it’s the siren call of lasagna that persuaded her, and it has nothing to do with the fact that she misses her dad and that something about the old butler’s loneliness, which he only gives her fleeting glimpses of, tugs at her heartstrings.

_I am not getting attached_ , she tells her reflection while she freshens up before dinner.

_Yeah, right_ , Mirror-Veronica seems to say.

_Shut up. I’m not._

Rather than keep arguing with herself, Veronica heads downstairs and nags Alfred into letting her help prep ingredients for dinner and dessert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first mention of Dick Grayson—the only one in this fic, but you'll see more of him in later stories in the series, of course! Two minor TV show crossovers in the hunt for Bruce Wayne: Fox's Lie to Me and BBC's Sherlock. 
> 
> For the Sherlock, I just thought it would be really fun to have Alfred and Mycroft Holmes be former colleagues. There are two things that are pretty well known about the Wayne family butler's pre-buttling history: that he was at one point an actor, and that he engaged in espionage/special operations for the British government. So, Mycroft, of course!
> 
> Finally, a disclaimer: If I own nothing from VM or the DCU, then obviously I own nothing from these shows either.


	4. Ain’t No Place Like Gotham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica chases Bruce’s obsession and gets a little obsessed herself.

Despite Alfred’s warnings that Mycroft Holmes is likely one of the most manipulative people on the planet, Veronica takes the deal. She’s pretty sure Bruce is somewhere in Asia, but she’s also fairly sure tracking him is beyond her resources and skills at the moment.

The last of the withdrawals by any of Bruce’s known aliases was just before she and Jake had struck their bargain. He’d withdrawn a significant amount of cash from an ATM in Changsha in China’s Hunan province. After that, there’s nothing. And even Jake Kane and Clarence Wiedman have limited contacts in the area.

So Veronica takes the deal, and Mycroft tells her it might be a couple of months, three at the outside, before he can give her anything concrete. Still, it’s better than anything she can count on, so she plays the waiting game. She goes back to New York and resumes training with Ted and Dinah, still backtracking Bruce’s footsteps so she can get a sense of his narrative, not to mention the skills he’ll bring to bear when she finally meets him and talks him into coming home.

And if he doesn’t want to come home, she’s going to have to talk him into it, she knows. First of all, if he isn’t already one of the world’s best martial artists, she’ll eat her left foot. Second, his fake IDs all put him at over six feet, somewhere between six foot one and six foot four. She can claim all of five feet and one inch. She has no hope in the physical arena, no matter how much Dinah compliments her on her progress or how often she gets Ted’s grudging grunts of approval.

She knows if she’s going to convince Bruce it’s time to come home, she’s going to have to use the things he cares about. That means boning up on knowledge that would matter to a crime fighter. So she stays in New York, barters on her father’s name to butter up a few professors and sit in on their criminology and criminal psychology classes, reads book after book on the subject.

She knows Bruce is likely still in Asia, so she even starts learning Mandarin.

She drives down to Gotham for a few days every other week or so. She spends time getting to know Alfred and learning about Wayne Enterprises and the Wayne Foundation. The latter is especially of interest, since she’s fairly sure it’s one of the things Bruce was pretty passionate about before his departure. She has lunches and dinners with Lucius Fox and with Alfred, who has pretty much given her a room of her own at Wayne Manor.

She learns that Lucius’s genius and dedication to Thomas and Martha Wayne’s vision is hampered by the money-obsessed members of the board, who veto projects that promise no short-term gains. Every year, Lucius is under more and more pressure to bid for contracts that will have Wayne Enterprises building projects for the military that don’t focus on life preservation, on defense and non-lethal solutions.

Several board members, led by William Earle, push for Wayne Enterprises to use its proprietary technologies to go up against LexCorp, Queen Industries, and Stark Industries in the weapons and munitions market. It’s not the vision Thomas Wayne had for the company, but Lucius’s protests are toothless without Bruce.

Lucius never tells her outright, but Veronica knows enough from the hints he’s dropped that without Bruce’s support, he might eventually have to start giving in to make sure he retains support for medical, research, and pharmaceutical projects, not to mention the Wayne Foundation.

She volunteers at Dr. Thompkins’ free clinic, bringing to bear as much California sunshine as she can manage. She talks to the regulars, learns about Gotham’s ills.

She even consults with Jim Gordon from time to time (unofficially, of course), enjoying the way they toss around ideas, something she and her dad used to do back when they ran Mars Investigations together. She gets private investigator licenses for New York and New Jersey. She’s pretty sure she wants to move out here when everything is said and done, which is funny because she’s always thought of herself as a California girl.

She never would’ve thought there was a town more mired in corruption than Neptune, but the grime of Gotham’s underbelly makes her hometown seem almost squeaky in comparison. Still, there’s something compelling about the city.

People often speak of the distinct attitudes of a city’s people, and Gothamites are one of a kind. They aren’t quite the melting pot New Yorkers are, but they’ve got even more grit than the average resident of the Big Apple. Gotham is even more of a mob city than Chicago was, but the truth is that the mob is only a symptom of the sickness in the city’s soul.

Yet big business is alive and well in this gothic, angst-filled town; it’s home to some of the world’s best innovators and some of America’s oldest families, for all it’s one of the most dangerous cities in the world to live in.

True Gothamites, whether they grew up here or were transplanted only to embrace the city as their home, eventually have a look in their eyes old war veterans would recognize. It’s something Veronica has seen in the kids of Neptune, but not quite as pervasive. It’s a look she’s seen in her own eyes, in Logan’s and Mac’s and occasionally even Wallace’s. It’s part of why Gotham speaks to her; it’s got the same vibe but is such a big city she retains her anonymity in a way she never could’ve in her own hometown.

She finds there’s something that might almost be called pride in the way Gothamites talk about the soaring crime rates of their city, not because they like the corruption, but because it’s an achievement to simply have survived its cesspit. Gotham eats its innocents, mangles the mediocre. The city spawns some of America’s most brilliant, for good or ill—more often for the latter, but that’s nurture over nature for you.

It’s the fact that Bruce Wayne is a Gothamite born and bred (he’s arguably _the_ Gothamite, as often as he’s lauded the Prince of Gotham by tabloids and legitimate press alike) that has Veronica convinced that wherever he is, it’s exactly where he wants to be. As far as she is concerned, there isn’t any doubt that he is alive.

Still, she knows Gotham well enough now that if William Earle and the WE board push to have Bruce declared dead in absentia, enough money is likely to change hands that nothing short of a personal appearance will prevent the ruling. And the five-year deadline is looming close enough that she’s prepared for this eventuality.

Most of her friends are perplexed by her newfound fascination with Gotham.

Mac and Wallace are full of equal parts concern and resignation, and they tell her only she would get out of the hellmouth that is Neptune to find her way to a city that might actually be hell on earth.

Her dad understands better the need to shine a light in the dark, but he urges her to spend more time in New York and less time in Gotham nevertheless. She is still, after all, his little girl.

Even the friends she made at her FBI internship voice some concern. In one of their friendly Skype sessions, Penelope Garcia, the technical analyst she befriended at the BAU warns her about the crazies, then calls over her “chocolate Adonis” of a supervisory special agent to read Veronica the riot act.

“Hey, tiny tot, how’s it going? Still working that missing persons case?” SSA Derek Morgan peers at the camera over Garcia’s shoulder, his unreasonably handsome face breaking into a grin when he sees who’s on screen.

“Yep. Pretty sure I’ve beat out the competition to find this guy. How’re things with you guys, Agent Morgan? Crazy as ever?”

Garcia throws up her hands in exasperation. “Enough! Hot stuff, you are here for one reason only. Tell our little Neptunian blonde here that Gotham is _not_ a nice place to spend half her time!”

Morgan frowns. “No, it isn’t. Angel, you do know Gotham’s got the highest incident of murder cases per capita in the country, right? Not to mention it’s the city with the highest rate of serial murders? And you know I don’t like to speak badly of local enforcement agencies, but the GCPD hasn’t acted on our recommendations to establish a dedicated taskforce and hire their own team of profilers.”

“Recommendations we’ve issued every year like clockwork since the BAU was first established,” Garcia pipes in.

“It’s not that bad,” Veronica says. At their matching level stares, she pouts. “Okay, it _is_ that bad, but there’s a certain _je ne sais quoi_ to Gotham. And anyway I spend most of my time in New York. I’ve even been taking self-defense classes.”

Morgan just shakes his head. “Don’t make me call Reid in to quote statistics at you. Just stay safe and don’t go anywhere alone until dark. And stay out of Crime Alley, even if it means spending more for a hotel.”

“I’ve actually been staying with a friend just outside of Gotham.”

“Well, that’s something at least.”

Garcia rolls her eyes. “I swear, I never met a magnet for trouble like Veronica Mars. And the idea of a tiny little nugget of sunshine like you in America’s black hole of crime gives me cold sweats.”

“I’m fine, Garcia,” Veronica says with a smile.

“Wait.” Morgan frowns. “You’re in Gotham working a high-profile missing persons case. Bruce Wayne?”

“Yep.” Veronica pops the P.

“You’re after the reward?”

“I’ve been hired by an interested party. The reward’s a bonus—okay, a really big bonus, if I get it—but I’m on retainer.”

Morgan shakes his head. “Well, angel, I guess you really do embody the idea of ‘go big or go home.’ I’m not going to bet against you, but Gotham’s not the safest playground, so watch your back, okay? I know Hotch is still hoping you’ll eventually come to Quantico so he can recruit you.”

“Will do!” Veronica salutes smartly. “But no promises on joining the FBI. You guys love your paperwork and your red tape way too much.”

“It’s not a question of love but necessity, hotshot.”

They end the call amicably, with Garcia demanding that Veronica check in regularly, on pain of having her phone tracked.

Time passes, and despite the fact that she’s only been taking classes for a short time, she’s told she might actually actually earn her yellow belt in Krav Maga, moving from white belted beginner to second-level practitioner, within a few months. She credits Dinah and her teacher, a former Mossad agent, with her swift progress.

When she goes home for Thanksgiving, she happily lets her dad drag her to a gym so she can show off her moves. Afterward, he tells her he’s glad she can defend herself with more than just her trusty taser.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It’s mid-December. She has one last dinner with Dinah and Ted, telling them she’ll be sure to look them up whenever she’s on the East Coast and that they should do the same if they find themselves in California.

They exchange gifts. She gives Ted a set of blue-black workout gloves with the Wildcat logo emblazoned in gold. She gets Dinah a black tank top with the words “I’ll try being nicer if you try being smarter” emblazoned on it—the other woman has shown a marked appreciation for Veronica’s statement tee collection.

The day before she’s due to fly back west, she drives down to Gotham to present Alfred with her gift for him, a tin of Darjeeling Makaibari tea that’s supposed to be one of the best India has to offer.

Alfred hands her an exquisitely wrapped box no bigger than her palm, but says nothing at her curious look. He also hands her another wrapped box, a larger one, which he tells her is from Lucius. She inspects the gifts, even shakes them, but gets no clues as to its contents.

“You could open it,” he says, clearly amused.

“Noooo,” she says slowly, shaking her head. “Not allowed to open gifts before Christmas. Guess I’ll just have to bring it with me. I’ll call you when I open it, okay?”

“Very well, Miss Veronica. Please wish your father, Miss Mackenzie, and Mr. Fennel a happy Christmas for me.”

“You bet, Alfie!”

She’s pressed for time, so she leaves her presents for Lucius Fox and Jim Gordon with the butler. But she makes it a point to drive down to Leslie Thompkins’ clinic, where she has gifts for the doctor and her staff as well as a big bag filled with stuffed toys for the children’s waiting area.

Another large shopping bag is filled with knitted scarves she bought from a factory overrun store. She gifts one to each of the regulars present, leaving the bag with one of the nurses after extracting her promise to give the scarves away to people who look like they need them.

By nightfall, she is back in New York and returning her rental car. She takes the train back to her apartment and double-checks her luggage to make sure she hasn’t forgotten anything. She makes sure all her presents are in order, and tucks Alfred’s present to her into her carryon bag.

The following morning, she flies to San Diego. It’s a week before Christmas, and she’s looking forward to seeing her friends and her dad. And Gotham may be her city one day, but for now, Neptune is still home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, I couldn't help myself. Veronica's internship with the FBI has just always made me dream of a Criminal Minds crossover. So I wrote up this admittedly self-indulgent cameo for Morgan and Garcia. Later in the series, I have dreams of a Mac-Garcia-Oracle-Overwatch power team, but that's a long way off.


	5. Happy Holidays, But Just You Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because it’s Christmas (and maybe because they secretly really love each other), Veronica Mars and Logan Echolls prove it’s possible to be civil with your ex. However, awkwardness is a given.

The first few days Veronica is back in Neptune are a bit of a whirlwind time for her. There’s a lot to adjust to. For one thing, her dad is having another go at dating her BFF Wallace’s mom. The sweet romance of Keith Mars and Alicia Fennel crashed and burned Veronica’s junior year of high school, thanks to the hurricane known as Lianne Mars, who blew through their lives in a swirl of vodka, guilt and destruction.

Veronica hopes this means that someday Wallace will literally be her “brother from another mother,” as she likes to call him.

Her other best friend, Mac, is still going strong with her boyfriend of a year, the nerdy and hopefully only temporarily directionless Max. Of course, as a college dropout herself, Veronica has very few stones to throw at that particular glass house. (She’s not sure if she should keep calling her continued lack of the college experience a sabbatical when she knows she’s not re-enrolling until after she sets eyes on Bruce Wayne in the flesh.)

The three amigos are having lunch at Mama Leone’s, Veronica’s go-to dine-in Italian restaurant, two days after she arrives when things get very awkward very quickly. She’s finishing off her lasagna when the door opens and three men and a baby walk in.

These men being her bad-boy-with-the-heart-of-gold ex-boyfriend Logan Echolls, her formerly-a-prince-but-now-a-villain ex-boyfriend Duncan Kane, and lowest-of-the-lowest-common-denominator-crowd douchebag and former classmate Dick Casablancas. The baby, of course, is none other than Neptune’s pretty blonde princess, the second Lilly Kane.

Whose whole face lights up when she spots Veronica. “Aunt Wonica!” she squeals.

It’s the first time Veronica has seen Lilly since getting back. Jake and Duncan have agreed to let her take her goddaughter for the day on the 23rd, so she wasn’t expecting to see the little girl for a couple more days. Nevertheless, she is happy to see her.

“Hi, Lilly-my-love,” Veronica says with a smile as the little girl sprints in her direction. She makes a point of ignoring the three men.

She stands to meet Lilly halfway when the girl seems to trip over her own feet. Veronica darts forward to scoop the child up into her arms before she can hit the ground, and Lilly’s scream morphs into a squeal of delight. “You saved me,” she says in awe. “I was falling.”

“Nah, I just couldn’t wait another second to pick you up,” Veronica says, smiling and planting a kiss on the girl’s nose, making her giggle.

“You did save her,” Duncan says, walking forward. “I’ve never seen anyone move so fast.”

Veronica shrugs one shoulder, tucking Lilly into her side. “It’s nothing. Do you mind if I introduce Lilly to Mac and Wallace? I’ll bring her to your table afterward.”

“Sure,” he says. “Veronica—”

But she’s already turning away. “Lilly,” she says in a serious voice, schooling her face into a grave expression. “Would you like to meet my friends? They were friends of your mommy’s too, you know.”

Lilly’s smile is as brilliant and joyous as the first Lilly Kane’s, and it turns Veronica’s insides into so much goo. “Yes, Aunt Wonica!”

Veronica returns to the table where her friends are staring, jaws agape. “Mac, Wallace, I’d like to introduce you my goddaughter. Now, if only I could remember her name…”

“I’m Lilly Kane!” the girl squeals indignantly.

Veronica grins. “Of course you are. Lilly Kane, meet your aunt Mac and your uncle Wallace.”

Mac and Wallace grew up with younger siblings, so it’s not much of a surprise that they’re both pretty good with Lilly. Not that it’s hard to be; the little girl has all of Meg Manning’s sweetness coupled with her aunt and namesake’s irrepressible charm and joie de vivre.

After a few minutes of boisterous chatter punctuated by giggles and squeals, Veronica figures she should probably return Lilly to her father; otherwise, she’ll be tempted to just take the girl home with her.

As she makes her way across the restaurant to where the three men are seated, she literally bumps into another blast from the recent past, upping the awkwardness level of this whole encounter by a thousand.

She takes a step back and wraps her arms around Lilly to steady the child and finds herself staring at the couple who have just entered the restaurant.

“Veronica Mars?” Their voices are in unison, the effect a rather disconcerting stereo of shock and incredulity.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” Veronica says, managing a wry grin despite the fact that it’s the first time she’s seen her ex-boyfriend and her ex’s ex-girlfriend since she left college, and they are definitely here on a date. “Hi Piz. Hi Parker. Happy holidays.”

When they just stare at her, she figures she’ll let them (and herself) off the hook. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get this kid back to her dad before her tummy starts rumbling.”

She walks over to the table of villainy. It’s clear all three have witnessed the awkward encounter. Dick is sniggering, Duncan looks confused (but then again, perplexed and blank are basically the only expressions he really manages to achieve), and Logan’s gaze is equal parts searching and sympathetic. She goes with the lesser evil and meets it, shrugging one shoulder and rolling her eyes. One side of his mouth quirks up in a half-assed smile.

“So how about them Padres?” she asks brightly as she arrives at their table. She makes to pass Lilly to Duncan, but the little girl shakes her head.

“Want Unca Log’n!”

Veronica turns to the man in question, eyebrows raised. He looks surprised as well, but after a moment’s hesitation holds his arms out so she can place the girl in them. “Well, anything you want, kid, you got it,” Veronica teases as she straightens. “I’ll see you in a couple days for our girls’ day out, okay?”

“Pwomise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die!” Veronica leans in, places a kiss on the baby soft cheek, then straightens up to give the guys a jaunty salute before turning on her heel and walking back to her table.

She doesn’t turn when she hears Dick Casablancas say, “Dude, is it me or is Ronnie like 10 times hotter now?”

She smirks at the comment, then grins when she hears a slap and Logan’s “Shut up, Dick.” She pretends she doesn’t feel their eyes on her as she walks away.

Sliding into her chair, she rolls her eyes at her two friends then throws her hands up in the air. “So what do you say we head to Amy’s before Madison Sinclair comes through the door?”

Both Mac and Wallace, who have been watching her with not a little apprehension, crack up. Their mirth renders them incapable of speech, so Veronica takes it upon herself to ask the waitress for the check. They’re wiping tears from their eyes when she sneakily manages to pay for lunch before they can whip out their wallets.

She waves their protests away. “Mac can treat us to ice cream, and Wallace can buy the popcorn for our Christmas movie marathon,” she tells them.

Grumbling, they agree, and they beat a hasty retreat out the door before any more awkward encounters can occur.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The following day, Veronica hitches a ride to Kane Software with Alicia, who works there. She expects to meet with Wiedman but is surprised when she’s shown into Jake Kane’s office instead. He and Wiedman are waiting for her.

“Veronica,” he greets her warmly. “It’s good to see you. It’s been a while.”

She shrugs. “I’ve been pretty busy.”

“Yes, Clarence has kept me updated. You’ve been spending most of your time in Gotham and New York, from what I understand.”

“Yup. Most of my leads on Bruce Wayne’s whereabouts were out of the East Coast, so it was more efficient and economical to just stay put.”

“Well, I appreciate both your efficiency and your economy,” Jake tells her, his voice still friendly.

It creeps Veronica out. There’s no love lost between the Mars and Kane families, except when they’re playing to an audience, which they aren’t doing, so she doesn’t see why he’s making the effort to charm.

“Your last email mentioned you’d found some leads regarding Bruce Wayne’s location,” Wiedman says. She figures it’s his way of reminding Jake what’s going on.

“Yup. He’s using fake IDs and schlepping around Europe and Asia, for the most part.” Veronica had been keeping the details of her investigation pretty vague from the get-go, but since she started piecing together the puzzle of Bruce Wayne’s big picture, she had started omitting and outright obfuscating anything that pointed toward his interest in crime fighting. “I managed to backtrack some of his activities since he went missing.”

“Oh? And what has the heir to one of the biggest fortunes in the world been up to?”

“Exploring life as someone who’s _not_ the heir to one of the biggest fortunes in the world,” Veronica says frankly.

“Explain.”

“Well, for a few months, at least, Bruce Wayne apparently did the most cliched thing he could think of and ran away to join the circus.”

“You’re kidding.” Jake’s eyes are wide, his mouth slightly agape. She’s pleased to have shocked him.

“Nope. He hired on with Haley’s Circus for a season as a man-of-all-work.” Veronica relishes the sheer disbelief on the man’s face. “He bounced around a bit. Then he got tangled up in some bad stuff, from what I can tell. I wasn’t able to get all details, but he’s been identified as a person of interest in some pretty heavy stuff. Drugs, the sex trade, crime syndicates.”

“That’s troubling news.”

“Yeah. I’m still looking into some other leads. Plus, I tapped a contact with a bigger network than I have, but he won’t be able to get back to me for at least another month.”

“Oh? You haven’t requested additional funds.”

“Ah, he’s not charging me money. I’ll just owe him a favor.”

“All right. Well, keep us updated. In the meantime, excellent work. I’ve authorized Wiedman to transfer a holiday bonus to your account.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I know, but all Kane Software employees and long-term contractors are enjoying a nice bonus this year. It would be suspicious if one of them were exempt.” Jake stands. “Now, if that’s everything, please wish your father a merry Christmas for me.”

“Thanks. Um. Merry Christmas to you too.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Jake’s bonus comes in handy, as it happens. She transfer the entire amount to Mac, with instructions to build her the most secure computer her budget can manage. Mac has already heard her bemoaning Mycroft’s casual hacking, so the other girl has promised to set up a more secure system for her _and_ teach her the basics of keeping her files safe and encrypted as her Christmas gift.

Her day out with Lilly is a success. Veronica has made it a point to visit the little girl every time she is in Neptune, but she has never had her for more than a couple of hours. When she arrives at the Kane mansion, the family is just about done with breakfast.

Duncan makes creepy attempts to flirt, but she makes a point of obviously ignoring his advances; he tries to invite himself along, but she airily dismisses his suggestions by telling him she and her goddaughter need some girl time. It’s an excuse the first Lilly Kane often used when she wanted solo time with Veronica, and it works just as well as it ever did. Duncan folds immediately.

She takes Lilly to the beach, and the little girl goes gaga over Veronica’s gentle, long-suffering pit bull, Backup. They have a picnic lunch on the sand, and the PI praises the little girl on her castle-building skills. Later, they go for ice cream at Amy’s, another one of Veronica’s go-to places in Neptune. They’re sharing a banana split when Logan Echolls walks through the door with a grinning teenybopper who looks vaguely familiar.

“Unca Log’n!” Lilly squeals, much the same way she did with Veronica a couple days before. She stands up on her seat and waves to make sure she catches his attention (unnecessarily, as he turns the moment he hears her name). “Hi!”

“Hi Lilly,” he says, and makes his way over instead of heading to the ice cream display. The girl with him follows with a huge grin on her face. “Hi Veronica.”

“Hi Logan.” Veronica smiles at him politely before turning to the girl with him. “Hi Logan’s friend.”

“I’m Heather!”

Veronica nods and stands, reaching over to shake the girl’s hand. “I’m Veronica, and this is Lilly.”

Lilly waves obligingly. “Hi! I’m Lilly!”

Heather giggles. “I know,” she says. “Logan said he’d treat me to ice cream.”

“Ice cweam’s good!” Lilly says, beaming. “Want to twy mine, Unca Log’n?” She scoops up some ice cream on her spoon and holds it out precariously.

Logan grins. “No thanks, kid. Heather and I will get our own so you can enjoy yours okay? Don’t let your Aunt Ronica eat all of it.”

“Aunt Wonica wouldn’t do that!” Lilly protests, giggling.

Logan raises his eyebrows at Veronica, who smirks back at him. “Funny, she used to do that to me all the time.”

“I only share ice cream with my nearest and dearest,” Veronica says in a grave voice. “Only they can rest easy in the knowledge that I would never steal frozen treats from them.”

“See?” Lilly beams.

Logan laughs. “Guess that tells me. We’ll see you around, I guess!”

He heads toward the counter, but Heather hangs back. “We were gonna get our ice cream to go, but can we join you guys instead?” Just then Logan calls out to her and asks what she wants. “The usual,” she calls back.

Veronica is taken aback by the girl’s forwardness. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”

Heather ducks her head. “Yeah, we ran into each other in the elevator of the Neptune Grand once.”

Huh. Which tells Veronica absolutely nothing, even though she kind of remembers the incident. “Were you wearing my shirt?”

The girl’s face lights up. “Yeah, I was! So can we join you? Pretty please?”

Not entirely sure why the tween cares so much, Veronica turns to Lilly, who is once more happily digging into their banana split. “What do you say, Lil?”

“Okay!”

The PI shrugs. “You heard the lady.” Heather beams and takes a seat. “So why were you wearing my shirt when we first met?”

“Oh, cause Dick and my big sister dumped me with Logan and went to Vegas and got married.”

Veronica gapes at her. “Dick Casablancas got married?”

“They divorced a couple days later,” Logan says as he joins them, a cone in each hand. He hands one to Heather, who digs in with gusto. “The paperwork said irreconcilable differences, but apparently he was grossed out by the fact that her second toe was longer than her big toe.”

“What.”

Logan shrugs. “I couldn’t make this sh—stuff up if I tried.”

Heather giggled. “It’s true.”

Veronica shakes her head. “And I thought I’d heard everything.” She notices Lilly has managed to get as much chocolate ice cream on her face as in her mouth, so she grabs a napkin and wipes the girl’s face. “How’ve you been, Lo?” she asks, wetting the napkin a bit and wiping more chocolate from Lilly’s hands.

“Good, I guess.” He shrugs. “It’s weird having the Donut back. He even got his GED and enrolled at Hearst. He mentioned you are taking a year off to do some work for his dad. I guess you had something to do with his return and Jake’s divorce?”

“Yeah,” Veronica says, turning back. His face is studiously casual. A year ago, she would’ve chalked it up to indifference, but she’s been talking to the folks at the Lightman Group, and she is much better at reading expressions now. Especially given she’s been practicing her face-reading on someone like Alfred. So she knows he’s actually pretty curious about what she’s been up to. “He has me on retainer. I’m working a missing persons case at the moment, but most of my leads are on the East Coast, so I ended up getting a short-term rental in New York.”

“Ah. How do you like the Big Apple?”

Veronica shrugs. “It’s a crazy but fun city. Nobody knows me there. I’ve been spending some time in Gotham too, and even drove down to DC a couple of times.”

“For the case?”

“Yeah, though I can’t really talk about it.”

“So you work full-time now?”

“More or less. I spend more time than I’d like waiting to get info or getting contacts to trust me enough to tell me stuff, so I keep busy.”

“What do you do?” This is from Heather, and Veronica can’t figure out why the girl keeps beaming at her. She’s almost vibrating in excitement.

The blonde shrugs, spoons up the last of her ice cream. “Been sitting in on a few criminology classes. Oh, and a friend of mine got me to join a self-defense class with her. It’s a pretty good workout.”

“I’ll bet! You look a little different from before—slimmer, more toned.” When the girl realizes how her words can be taken the wrong way, her face freezes in panic.

Veronica bites back a smile. “Thanks,” she says simply. She notices Lilly’s attention has wandered. “Ready to go, Lil?”

“Yep!”

Veronica smiles at Heather and Logan. “We’d better head out,” she says, pretending not to notice the girl’s obvious disappointment. Which is strangely echoed, if more subtly, in Logan. “I promised her I’d take her to see my dad at the sheriff’s department. Then we’re going full-on girl’s day out with my friend Mac. Complete with nail painting and hair braiding.”

“Sounds fun,” Logan says. “Heather and I have a date with Mario Kart.”

“You’d better kick his butt,” Veronica tells the girl, who beams.

“I will!”

Logan finishes the rest of his ice cream. “Come on, we’ll walk out with you.”

“Sure.” Just then, Veronica remembers something. “Oh, can you follow us to my car? I actually have something for you. I was gonna give it to Mac to give to you, but since you’re here…”

“Of course. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

She grins. “I know. But, well, it’s Christmas, you know?” They get to her car, and she reaches into the backseat for one of the bags she left there. She hands it over, watches him peer inside, then pull out a wrapped present. He starts to tear the wrapper, when she stops him. “Uh uh! You know the rules! Gotta wait ‘til Christmas to open it!”

He rolls his eyes. “Veronica.” His voice has all the exasperation and warmth it used to. She ignores the way it makes the gut butterflies flutter.

“Nope! Christmas or bust, mister.” Lilly is grinning up at them. “I didn’t let Lilly open hers when I dropped them off this morning, either.”

Logan frowns. “Really?” He raises his eyebrows at Lilly as Veronica scoops the little girl up and places her in her car seat. “Is that true?”

Veronica whispers into Lilly’s ear and the girl laughs. “It’s twue, Unca Log’n!”

“I’m not sure I believe you,” he teases. “Either of you.”

“You can ask Duncan if you like.” Veronica resists the urge to smirk when the smile drops from his face. “Anyway, we’re gonna make like a baby and head out. Merry Christmas, Logan, Heather. And Heather, may the gaming gods be with you!”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Christmas itself is a quiet affair. She and her dad make dinner, watch _The Year Without Santa Claus_ and _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ to keep awake until midnight, then open their presents.

Her dad is thrilled with the baseball memorabilia she picked up in New York, which includes a ball signed by Joe DiMaggio that Ted helped her find.

Keith’s gift to her is a messenger bag with a cushioned sleeve for her new laptop. It’s also apparently got anti-theft features—locks on the zippers and some kind of wire weave in the outer material to guard against knife slashes.

Lucius’s gift is the newest smartphone from Wayne Tech, which he’d been showing her just a couple weeks ago. It wasn’t even on the market yet. Her dad oohs and ahhs over it, but is completely perplexed by its functions. Veronica figures it will leave Mac drooling. She fires it up, and her first message is a thank you to Lucius.

Alfred’s present is a key. She calls him up to wish him a merry Christmas and ask him what it opens, but while he offers her felicitations, he tells her she’ll have figure out the lock the key opens on her own. Perplexed, she adds it to her keyring anyway.

Christmas day is spent with the Fennels—happily so, as Alicia’s cooking is far superior to either Veronica’s or her dad’s. Mac comes over after breakfast, and she and Wallace are both suitably impressed by Veronica’s new phone.

Veronica, in turn, all but purrs over the laptop Mac hands her. She happily gives her friends big boxes of their favorite cookies, vegan choco chip for Mac and snickerdoodles for Wallace.

Later that evening, she’s surprised by a visit from Logan, who hands her a gift.

“Although it’s not a signed copy of _The Great Gatsby_ —and I have no idea where you got that, but thank you—I saw it when I was looking for something for Trina and it reminded me of you,” he says, referring to his older sister.

Veronica opens the large box to find a studded black jacket made of butter-soft leather. “It’s great,” she says with a huge smile. “Thank you.” Because it’s Christmas (or so she tells herself), she goes up on tiptoe and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Lo,” she says softly as she pulls away. She smiles at him, and he smiles back.

“Merry Christmas, Veronica.”


	6. When Leads Turn Up Legends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evidence indicates Bruce may be in a place that isn’t supposed to exist.

Almost three months to the day after she strikes a deal with Mycroft Holmes, he lays his agents’ findings out for her.

A man matching Bruce Wayne’s description was arrested for theft over a year ago; ironically, the theft was from a shipment of Wayne Enterprises equipment parts made by Chinese manufacturers. He spent time in a Chinese prison before being released under suspicious circumstances.

The trail would have gone cold after that, but one of Mycroft’s agents was able to speak with a man who described someone who looked a lot like Bruce Wayne headed for Nanda Parbat in the Himalayas.

“Bruce Wayne is in Tibet?” Veronica asks.

“The ancient city of Nanda Parbat is considered sacred, similar to Shangri-La,” Mycroft tells her. “It’s reputed to be home to several monasteries and even a couple of mystical schools.”

There’s something funny in his tone of voice. “You don’t think I’ll find him in any of them,” she says. His silence is answer enough. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“You must understand, I’ve heard only speculation and rumor, nothing I can confirm.”

“Tell me.”

“Have you ever heard of an organization known as the League of Shadows? Or the League of Assassins, as they are sometimes called?”

“No,” Veronica says. “With a name like that, it sounds like it’s something either really sinister or really lame and cheesy.”

“The former, indubitably. It’s an ancient assassins guild that’s at least a thousand years old. Some of the legends credit the League and its leader with masterminding the fall of the Roman Empire and the Great Fire of London in the 17th century.

“According to legend, it’s led by a gentleman known as Ra’s al Ghul, and he’s said to have been alive for several centuries, although the name he goes by means ‘head of the demon’ in Arabic, so I’m not entirely convinced they haven’t just been replacing their leaders and building a legend up around them.”

“You think they’ve got Bruce Wayne. Either as a hostage or a recruit or something.”

“I don’t think that, and I hope for your sake that isn’t the case. As I mentioned, the League is a legend, and while quite a significant number of people in the intelligence community is aware of the myth, only a few are even sure of its existence.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if you are thinking of going after Wayne, as I suspect you might be, I’d suggest you reconsider. You might also want to mention the League to your friend Mr. Wiedman and perhaps even your client before you make your next move. And please don’t do it over email if you do. You don’t want to attract their attention if they do exist.”

“Worried about me?” Veronica asks with a smirk on her face, even if he can’t see it.

“If you get yourself killed by an urban myth, I won’t be able to collect on your payment for this favor.”

Veronica laughs. “You know, I’m kind of looking forward to meeting you in person one day.”

“I’d have to confess I feel much the same way.”

“So what makes you think my case has anything to do with the League of Shadows?”

“The location. If Wayne had gone looking for Shangri-La, I would’ve told you to check the monasteries. But there are two places often associated with the League. One is ‘Eth Alth’eban, which may or may not be an underground city. If it exists, it’s likely to be found in the Arabian Peninsula. The second is Nanda Parbat, which most people believe doesn’t exist either, but my sources are reliable and they assure me that it does.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me at this time?”

“No, but I’m having a packet couriered to Wayne Manor for you with all the information I’ve been able to gather relevant to the location and to Bruce Wayne.”

“Thanks,” Veronica says.

“I’m simply fulfilling my part of our bargain. When you go, make sure you return with the ability to fulfill yours.”

He hangs up, and Veronica snorts. “Still an asshole.”

Alfred has been silent the entire conversation. Now he places a hand on top of hers gently. “Miss Veronica.”

“What’s wrong, Alfie?”

“I’m satisfied you’ve fulfilled the terms of the reward I offered.”

Veronica frowns. “It’s not enough to keep him from being declared dead in absentia—”

“I don’t know the terms you set with Mr. Kane, and frankly, I don’t much care to. The reward has never been about proving Master Bruce is alive from a legal standpoint. I only wanted to know. And you’ve convinced me he is not only alive, but very likely healthy and as determined to achieve his goals as ever. I can wait for his return.”

“But we don’t know for sure, not really. The last anyone has heard of him or seen him—if it even _was_ him—was nine months ago.”

“ _I_ know. And I would be happy to transfer 50 million American dollars to your account within the week.”

Veronica frowns. “You want me to drop the case.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

Alfred’s lips straighten into a thin line. “Mycroft Holmes isn’t the only person who’s heard rumors about the League of Shadows, Miss Veronica. It’s the kind of organization MI6 veterans think of as the bogeyman. If Master Bruce is at all involved with them, it could be very dangerous for you to try to look for him.”

Veronica shakes her head. “Keep the money, Alfred. At least for now. I don’t feel like I’ve earned it yet. At least give me time to verify the information from Holmes, do a little research.”

“You won’t go to Tibet?”

“I’ll have to talk it over with Jake Kane and Clarence Wiedman. I doubt they’d send me, anyway, and I don’t have the means to fly myself over there.”

“In that case, I _will_ refrain from transferring the money then,” Alfred says, just the faintest bit of amusement in his tone. “Just know that, as far as I’m concerned, the reward is yours.”

“We’ll see,” Veronica says. And that’s the last they speak of it.

Mycroft’s packet of information arrives the following morning. Veronica’s impressed by how thorough it is. She spends the entire day going over its contents. She makes a copy for Alfred to keep before heading back to New York. The next week, she divides her time between her independent studies, going to martial arts classes, and poring over the data on Nanda Parbat.

The city is as shrouded in mystery as Mycroft hinted. Veronica is frustrated, and very close to tearing her hair out. Then she remembers that Mycroft mentioned telling Jake and C.W. about it. So she decides to deliver her next report in person.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

She requests to see both of them, citing that she’s run into an obstacle that would be very expensive to overcome. So when she arrives at Kane Software, she is shown into Jake’s office, where both he and C.W. are waiting.

“Veronica, what’s this about? You’re aware I’m willing to front even significant expenses.” So Jake wants to get right to the point. Veronica has no problem following suit.

“Yes, and thanks for that. But remember when I mentioned tapping a contact in exchange for a favor? He finally got back to me with eyewitness reports of a man matching Bruce Wayne’s description being arrested for theft in China and thrown into prison.”

“You think Wayne is rotting in some Chinese prison?”

“No.” And this is where Veronica needs to tread carefully. “The inmate was released with no record of his incarceration. My contact tells me that it’s likely his arrest and imprisonment did not follow due process, and the local government didn’t want to call attention to the fact that they messed up. There are some subsequent sightings of him in some holy city in Tibet that’s known for its monasteries and for the mystic arts.”

“There’s no way Bruce Wayne would sign up to become some kind of mountain monk.”

Veronica nods. “You’re right, of course. But some of my preliminary research indicates that a few of those monasteries are actually some kind of Eastern mystic rehab. Unfortunately, the city is notoriously distant from the outside world, and there’s no way to verify if he really is there, at least not without someone actually going there and checking.”

“So what are your next steps?”

“That depends on you. The good news is, he’s alive. The bad news is, I can’t prove it in a way that’ll stand up in a Gotham courtroom. At this rate, it’d be a minor miracle of Bruce Wayne came back before the fifth anniversary of his disappearance.”

“This is good work,” Wiedman says, finally speaking. “It’s farther than any investigator has been able to go since the reward was first offered.”

“Are you going to go to Tibet?” Jake asks.

“Not sure yet,” Veronica says. “I need some time to do research on the town and the monasteries. It’s a long way to go based on a few rumors that might not be worth anything. Also, I’m not exactly the rugged outdoorsy type. The Himalayas in winter are so not somewhere I’d be keen on visiting.”

“What’s the name of the city?”

“Nanda Parbat.” Veronica allows herself a flash of satisfaction when she sees Jake’s eyes bug out and Wiedman blanch. She tilts her head. Infusing her voice with curiosity and confusion, she asks, “Have you heard of it? I’ll admit I’d never heard of it before it came up a couple weeks ago. It isn’t on any of the maps of Tibet I was able to find.”

“N-no,” Jake says, his face almost as big a giveaway as his stutter. “I’ve never heard of a place called Nanda Parbat. Clarence?”

Wiedman, of course, is a smarter liar. “I’ve heard of it, but I thought it was just a myth. Like Shangri-La or Atlantis or Amazon Island.”

“Huh.” Veronica taps her chin speculatively. “Can we set a meeting after this so you can tell me what you’ve heard about it? My research so far has been kind of weird and confusing.”

“Of course, Ms. Mars.”

“Great. Now if that’s all? I’ve got a few things to finish before I need to be at a board meeting.” Jake is making a valiant effort to regain a casual, relaxed air. “Oh, and Veronica, as Clarence said, you’ve done some really good work on this case. Please expect a bonus along with your monthly retainer.”

“That’s not part of our bargain, and you already gave me a bonus before Christmas.”

“Still, I’ve always been a believer in rewarding exemplary efforts. I trust you’ll continue to keep me apprised of your findings. But I’ll need something a bit more concrete before I agree to foot the bill for a trip to Tibet, if you’re thinking of making one.

“Don’t worry, Jake,” Veronica says. “I have no plans of haring off to the Himalayas on nothing more than a hunch. But if I get some kind of verification that he really is there, I’m pretty sure I’ve got a decent idea of what buttons to press so he agrees to come back home.”

“If you get anything solid, come to me, and we can talk about funding a trip to the roof of the world.”

“Will do.”

Wiedman follows her out. “Come with me,” he says. So she follows him to his office. He gestures toward one of the visitor’s chairs, so she takes a seat. “I want you to be very careful about how you go about researching Nanda Parbat.”

By now (and with Dr. Lie-to-Me Lightman’s help), Veronica has perfected several “curious and clueless” faces. If she were talking to Jake, she might go for a muted ditzy blonde effect, but she knows Wiedman wouldn’t be fooled by it, so instead she infuses a healthy dose of suspicion into her expression. “What do you know about it, and why would you lie to Jake?”

“I wasn’t lying,” Wiedman says calmly. “Nanda Parbat _is_ a mystical, mythical place, and it goes by other names as well. As you mentioned, it’s perhaps best known for its monasteries and temples. But there are rumors of other groups having an interest in it as well, and I’ve heard chatter about eco-terrorists making their base there.”

_Is ‘eco-terrorist’ some kind of code word for ‘medieval assassin’?_ Veronica wonders. “With everything I’ve learned about Bruce Wayne, I’d say it’s pretty unlikely that he’d become an eco-terrorist, CW.”

“Nevertheless, you never know what you might turn up when you do your digging,” the ex-FBI agent tells her. There’s an intense look in his eyes that tells Veronica he wants her to listen to what he isn’t saying. “I’m well aware that you have a talent for stumbling onto conspiracies over the course of your investigations. If this group really is operating out of the area, they might not take too kindly to your particular brand of… snooping. I suggest you tell Ms. Mackenzie to take care as well.”

“Um, okay.” Veronica doesn’t have to work too hard to look both disturbed and intrigued.

If he’s talking about the League of Shadows, she can’t help but wonder what has veterans like Wiedman and Alfred so freaked out. Still, she figures Wiedman’s trying to warn her away; it’s the first indication she’s had that he cares about her wellbeing outside of her ability to be useful to the Kanes.

“Well, thanks for the warning. Is there anything else?”

“No, not at this time.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Over the next several weeks, she (carefully) researches what she can about Nanda Parbat. She makes it a point to look into the monasteries and mystic schools, even though she’s sure Bruce isn’t in any of them. Not that she tells Wiedman that. Or her dad, who would only pull out the rest of his hair in worry if she said _anything_ about an ancient sect of assassins or a group of eco-terrorists.

Regretfully, she decides not to involve Mac. If there _is_ a danger, she has no business dragging her friend into it. Still, Veronica misses the hacker’s admittedly epic skills. Her research continues to frustrate. As she’s been told, a lot of what’s known about Nanda Parbat is shrouded in myth and legend. She even tracks down experts in Asian folklore, only to have them tell her there’s no way to confirm it exists.

But she finds one reference to the place that seems it might be reliable. A world-class pair of martial artists based out of Detroit mentioned training in Nanda Parbat in an interview given a few years back. While Carolyn Wu-San was murdered shortly after the interview was given, Veronica manages to scrounge up an email for her sister, Sandra.

And she finally gets her first semi-solid lead on Nanda Parbat and the League of Shadows when the woman replies.

Sandra Wu-San tells her she is currently traveling in Asia on business, but agrees to meet her if she’s willing to fly out when Sandra returns. The other woman refuses to talk to Veronica over the phone or internet. Basically, it’s face to face or bust.

It is a week before the five-year anniversary of Bruce Wayne’s disappearance when Sandra calls Veronica and tells her she is headed back to the US.

Veronica books a flight out and is at the Detroit Metropolitan Airport three days later. As she exits, she sees a woman of Asian descent waving, and she introduces herself to Sandra. She follows the woman out, and they climb into the back seat of a dark town car. Then Veronica feels a pinch at her neck, and everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another minor crossover with Mycroft Holmes from BBC's Sherlock in this one. Then some DC lore stuff, but not affixed to a particular canon because I mix things up a lot.


	7. Even Demons Have a Sense of Humor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even ancient assassins are defeated by tiny blondes with the power to snark anyone into submission.

The first thing Veronica notices when she comes to is that it’s colder than the proverbial witch’s tit. The second is that she appears to be hanging from shackles in an honest-to-god dungeon. With torches instead of electric lights and everything.

_Don’t panic_ , she thinks to herself. Out loud, she says, “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.” Her voice is hoarse from disuse, and her throat is parched, so speaking feels a little like spewing glass shards.

She is rewarded with a low chuckle. “No, you are not. Nor are you in Detroit, Ms. Mars.” A man who appears to be in his fifties with dark hair winged white at the temples steps out of the shadows. She’d be surprised by the stealth, but she’s still feeling sluggish from whatever drugs were used to sedate her.

She stares at the man, who is wearing a long forest green coat with gold accents over an elaborate-looking suit. His face is angular, his skin is tanned, but not distinct enough in tone to establish origin; his features are strangely ageless, and his features are such that it’s hard to pinpoint race. His English is accented, but it isn’t American, and it isn’t quite British, either. He suits their surroundings—unapologetically mysterious and sinister.

“How long was I unconscious?” she asks.

“A little under twenty-four hours. Most people, upon losing consciousness then waking up captive, ask where they are or who is speaking to them.”

Veronica shrugs, or tries to. Her hands are shackled above her head, so she doesn’t quite manage it. “I’m in some kind of medieval dungeon. There aren’t any windows or identifying features, so I decided you wouldn’t tell me where we are if I asked. As for your second point, I have my suspicions, but if you didn’t want me to know who you were, you probably wouldn’t have bothered showing me your face. I figure you’ll introduce yourself when you’re ready to, and not a moment before.”

He lets out a full laugh this time. “You’re perceptive,” he says, amusement in his tone. “And spirited. If your suspicions about who I am are correct, then you are also courageous and foolhardy. It is an entertaining combination.”

“So happy to amuse you,” Veronica mutters. She thinks she should probably shut up, but for some reason she keeps opening her mouth to let the snark out. “However else would you entertain yourself in your dungeon, seeing as you haven’t got a TV in here, much less cable.”

He chuckles again. “I do like you,” he announces.

“Oh, _goody_.”

Still smiling, he waves a hand. Silently, two men dressed like ninjas (complete with swords at their backs and daggers at their waists) step out of the shadows in the back of the room, where they must have been standing this whole time.

They unlock the shackles around Veronica’s wrists and ankles and steady her when she teeters. Regaining her orientation, she rubs her wrists thoughtfully, keeping her eyes on the man who is very obviously the biggest threat to her.

“My name is Ra’s al Ghul, and you are a guest of the League of Shadows.”

“I’m pretty sure that if you looked up the word ‘guest’ in the dictionary, its meaning would be the opposite of kidnapping someone and holding them hostage in a dungeon.” Veronica smirks.

“You have not been harmed, so you should consider yourself a guest. You would not want to discover how we treat our prisoners.”

“Huh, I guess I wouldn’t. Still, there will be people looking for me if they don’t hear from me soon.”

Ra’s looks amused. “And you think they will find you if we do not want you found?”

Veronica’s lips thin into an angry line. “Fine. Probably not. Why am I here?”

“Please, follow me.” It might be worded like a request, but they both know it isn’t one. Veronica follows him through torchlit hallways until he stops in front of a door. “This is a washroom. Feel free to see to your needs. A servant will be outside the door and will bring you to me once you are done.”

Veronica’s disappointed to note that there’s only a small, barred window high up on the wall of the bathroom. It’s high enough that she couldn’t reach it even if she could fit through it, which, even with her small stature, would be impossible.

The bathroom is also unlike any Veronica’s ever been in. For one thing, there isn’t a toilet, as she recognizes it. There is something that is vaguely shaped like a toilet bowl, but it’s longer and narrower and embedded into the floor with two large bricks on either side of it. She’s not sure how it’s supposed to work, but her bladder is in a desperate state, so she manages as best she can. Thank god she’s wearing loose slacks instead of skinny jeans.

Urgent needs seen to, she goes to the washstand and does her best to clean her arms, hands, face, and neck. The water is bracingly cold, and it feels good when she pours it over her bruised wrists.

When she exits the washroom, she is led to what appears to be some kind of study or library. She takes a seat on the couch when he waves her to it. Another assassin-servant person brings a plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of water. “I’m sure you must be hungry and thirsty after so much time asleep.”

“You mean drugged.”

“As you say.”

“How do I know you haven’t drugged the food or the water?”

“Had I wished to keep you sedated, I could have done so without relocating you. Rather more conveniently and with fewer annoying questions, I might add.”

Veronica has to admit he has a point. “Fine,” she says, because she is starving and her throat is still very dry. She pours water into a glass, drinks it greedily. Then picks up a sandwich and takes a bite. She eats in silence while the man stares out the large glass windows, his back to her.

She takes the time to observe their surroundings. It’s night-time, and they’re not in the city, because it’s completely dark outside the windows and the only shapes she can make out are the vague outlines of mountains. She can see the stars quite clearly, which only reinforces the idea that they aren’t in an urban environment.

The study, or library, or whatever, is sumptuously decorated, despite its apparent lack of modern conveniences. The shelves are filled with leather-bound books in what appear to be an array of languages. She’s pretty sure she sees titles in kanji, Arabic, and Cyrillic, among other languages.

Ra’s al Ghul turns back to her just as she is finishing off the last of the sandwiches. “What do you want with Bruce Wayne?” he asks.

“To reassure his butler that he’s alive and kicking.”

“And Jake Kane? Did he not contract you to find the heir to the Wayne fortune and return him home?”

Veronica is not surprised he knows about that. He probably knows exactly what the terms of the deal between her and Jake Kane are. “You already know he did.”

“But your contractual obligations are not as important as your responsibility toward Alfred Pennyworth.” In textbook villain fashion, Ra’s al Ghul strokes his beard thoughtfully.

Veronica stays silent. Really, what does she have to say to that? It’s true, after all. She might have taken the case because of what she promised Jake Kane, but even if he released her from the obligation, she would still be working to find Bruce for Alfred. So she takes a moment to reorganize her thoughts. “Why am I here?”

“We have been tracking your investigation since you began working on Bruce Wayne’s case full time. You became more than a nuisance when you made your bargain with Mr. Holmes.”

“I wouldn’t have found anything even if I had come to Nanda Parbat and poked around. Assuming I’d have even found it.”

“It’s likely you would not have,” the Head of the Demon allows, “but your reputation for good luck—or should I say bad luck?—precedes you. And you interest me.”

“Like Bruce Wayne interested you?”

“Somewhat, although not in the same manner.”

“So did you recruit him? Or are you holding him hostage?”

“He came to us with his own free will. He asked to be trained. We deemed him worthy.”

“Is this the royal ‘we’ or are there people other than you and your ego involved?”

The man smiles. “After six centuries, I think I have a right to my ego, don’t you?”

“I’m to believe you’re six hundred years old.” Veronica’s eyes are narrowed, her voice flat. “Please don’t tell me you sparkle in sunlight.”

Ra’s al Ghul tosses his head back and laughs. “No, my dear, I am not a vampire. And Ms. Meyer’s descriptions of vampires are entirely her own imaginings. Vampires are much more vicious and less emotional than they have been depicted in the romance novels of the past two or three decades.”

Huh. So vampires are real, or at least this guy believes them to be. And likely more _Blade_ than _Twilight_. Good to know, but not relevant. “Okay, so say I believe you. Are you going to let me talk to him, convince him to come home? _Can_ he leave?”

“Mr. Wayne can leave at any time. However, his training is incomplete, and if he chooses to go with you, he will not be permitted to continue at a later date.” The Head of the Demon smiles thinly. “I am sure you know something of his mission. He will not lightly abandon the path that provides him with the skills to fulfill it.”

“You don’t think I can convince him to come home.”

“Frankly, Ms. Mars, I do not. But I will be entertained by your attempts. Come in.” This last he barks out in a commanding tone.

The door opens to admit a man who is undeniably Bruce Wayne. She already knows he’s inherited his father’s coal-black hair and dark-blue eyes, his mother’s bone structure. He was good looking in the photos she has of him from before his disappearance, but his time away seems to have honed his features. Now, he is ridiculously handsome, beautiful even. But she recognizes the Gothamite in him, and his gaze is intense and assessing.

Veronica watches as the man moves into the room, his movements lithe and stealthy, utterly silent. He’s bigger than he was in his last photos before his disappearance. Bulkier, but as if his strength has been honed and toned into something infinitely lethal. His entire demeanor is that of a panther on the prowl.

“Mr. Wayne, you have a visitor.” Ra’s al Ghul allows his amusement to tinge his voice. Bruce’s gaze leaves Veronica’s to look at his… boss? Mentor? Veronica isn’t sure. It’s something.

There’s respect and wariness there, but none of the slavish obedience and devotion she’s seen in the ninja-minions. The assassins she’s seen so far would mindlessly fling themselves to obey any of the older man’s orders, she thinks. This man would weigh the benefits and consequences using his own scale, and then decide. It gives her some hope she might succeed. It’s a hope that shatters with Bruce’s first words to her. 

“Ms. Mars. You should not have come here.”

Veronica has thought about what would happen when she finally got to meet Bruce Wayne. None of the scenarios she imagined included her being on the verge of spitting in anger. “I didn’t really have choice, now, did I?”

Bruce’s gaze shifts to the older man, who spreads his hands, palms up, in a seemingly careless gesture. “Her presence here may not be entirely voluntary. I have mentioned her investigation to you. She tracked you to Nanda Parbat and contacted Sandra Wu-San to learn about the city.”

Bruce’s eyes are on Veronica’s face again, and there’s something thoughtful in his expression. “Hnn.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“What would you like me to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something along the lines of ‘Oh, sorry my personal quest to know every damn thing about becoming a crusader for justice got you kidnapped by freaking ninja assassins who work for Dracula.’ That would be a good start.” Veronica folds her arms across her chest and scowls.

Ra’s al Ghul laughs. Bruce’s eyes widen just a fraction. Veronica’s not sure if it’s because of what she said or because the head of the League of Shadows is leaning back in his seat and laughing. “I’ve already told you, Ms. Mars, that I am not a vampire. And Vlad Tepesh was a much less amiable host than I.”

“Well, if the dress fits,” Veronica says, eyeing the high-collared coat that falls to the man’s calves.

He only waves the comment away, smiling. “Tell Mr. Wayne why you are here.”

She stares at Bruce, the guy she’s spent a year looking for—and if she hasn’t been lied to about how long she was unconscious, it really has been a year. “I’m here to convince you to come home,” she says simply.

“I’m not ready to return to Gotham,” is the implacable reply.

“When will you be ready?”

“When my training is complete.”

“Most of my Shadows train for a minimum of five years,” Ra’s al Ghul says oh-so-helpfully. “Although you must understand that time has a somewhat elastic quality here in Nanda Parbat. However, your Mr. Wayne is quite the prodigy. I daresay he will complete his training in less time than the others expect him to.”

“And how much time do _you_ expect it will take him?” Veronica asks, chin lifting, eyes flashing.

He chuckles. “I would never voice such expectations before a student.”

“Unless you think it would be interesting to see whether he rises to the challenge or fails to meet it.” Veronica’s retort is met by another bout of laughter.

“Oh, Ms. Mars, it has been some time since I have had the pleasure of hosting someone with half your cheek.”

Veronica smirks. “Most people just call me a pain in the ass.”

Bruce mutters something. Veronica _thinks_ he just called her suicidal, but she decides to ignore him. She’s known from the moment he first spoke that he isn’t going to leave with her. He’s already assured her that he plans to return, probably some time in the next three or four years at the outside.

Now she needs to think about getting herself home, preferably in the same state as when she left it. She suspects ninja assassins are not in the habit of playing catch-and-release with the people they abduct.

“On the contrary, it is quite refreshing,” Ra’s al Ghul says. “Why don’t you lay out your case for Mr. Wayne’s return? I’m certain you’ve anticipated his reluctance as well as his long-term motives. I am sure he and I would find your pitch entertaining, if not educational.”

Veronica looks at each man in turn. Both are inscrutable and watching her like she’s a bug they want to dissect. Nothing for it than to play along then. And why not? If there is even a miniscule chance she can change Bruce Wayne’s mind, she is going to take it.

So she pours herself another glass of water, takes a few sips. Collects her thoughts. And throws herself into telling Bruce Wayne and Ra’s al Ghul why Gotham, and particularly Wayne Enterprises, needs its prince back.

She tells them about William Earle and his cronies and how they are eroding at Lucius Fox’s resistance. She tells them about Gotham’s crime rates, which continue to rise, and the pervasiveness of its corruption.

When Ra’s al Ghul asks her why she thinks Bruce should return to such a blighted city, which might be served better by its complete destruction, she freezes for a moment, remembers how Wiedman had described the League as eco-terrorists, what Mycroft had said about the sacking of Rome and London burning.

So she expands on her narrative. She admits that the city’s healthcare and public services systems are in dire need of reformation. She infuses her reports with more human stories, telling them about Jim Gordon and his network of a few honest cops who still keep up the battle for Gotham’s soul. She tells them about Leslie Thompkins’ clinic and the people she met there. People who are still fighting to live, parents striving to make a better future for their children even amid the squalor of Gotham’s Narrows.

When asked about her own motives, she is frank and spares herself no quarter. She tells them about the mistakes she’s made, the deal she struck with the man who ruined her family. But she also tells them about meeting Alfred and all the other people she never would’ve known existed if she hadn’t been obligated to find a wayward billionaire.

She does not know if she should tell them how she’s come to think of Gotham as just a little bit hers, but she suspects she’s already revealed herself.

It’s funny, how everyone in her life has always told her she is too fond of secrets and too closed off to let anyone in. It’s funny because in the span of one evening, she finds she has laid herself bare to two complete strangers who might well be among the most dangerous men in the world.

Eventually, she falls silent. Bruce Wayne has been watching her this entire time, turning only occasionally to observe Ra’s al Ghul. Finally, he speaks. “You’ve made a pretty powerful case, Ms. Mars,” he tells her. “Few people see Gotham for what it is and still think about what it could be. Even fewer understand what is needed to bridge the gap between its present state and its potential.”

“You’re probably the only one who can do it,” Veronica says.

“Explain,” Ra’s orders with a flourish of his hand.

It’s something she has come to realize in the past few months. “Gotham needs a savior, but it also needs a protector. It needs someone to help the good guys keep doing what their doing, and maybe even recruit people to their cause. It also needs someone to punish the bad guys, because the bad guys have made the law and the government either ineffectual or corrupt.”

“Exactly.” Bruce’s eyes are lit with a midnight fire, and Veronica knows this man is going to carry out the goals he’s set for himself or die trying.

“So you’ll come home?”

He shakes his head. “As I said, I am not ready. You have made an excellent case for the necessity of my return, but you have also made it clear that there are things I must learn before I can do so.”

“So I’m just supposed to tell Alfred you’ll eventually come home, but you don’t know when?”

“More or less.” A ghost of a smile flits across Bruce’s features. “I will do my best to ensure my return happens before the seven-year mark, so you can claim your bonus from Jake Kane.”

“Pfft. Whatever.” She sighs. “So what now? Do the ninjas knock me out and dump me back in Detroit? Or what?”

“I am afraid not.” Ra’s al Ghul leans forward in his seat. He steeples his hands—the guy might be scary as hell, but he really needs to stop acting like a B movie villain—and watches both Bruce and Veronica intensely. “As I have said, Mr. Wayne is free to leave if he so chooses, although it is clear that he does not choose to do so. You, however, are another matter.”

Veronica narrows her eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

“Mr. Wayne, upon joining us, swore an oath to keep secret anything he learned about the location of our headquarters, safehouses, and operations. You are sitting in one of the most well-guarded of our bases, in the heart of a city that is only rumored to exist. We do not allow anyone to leave who is not similarly under oath.”

Veronica frowns. “So we’re in Nanda Parbat. And I _am_ a prisoner.”

Ra’s smiles. “Yes, we are in Nanda Parbat. And have I not already said you are a guest? Prisoners do not get to choose the nature of their lodgings.”

“You’re saying I have a choice here. Other than being murdered on the altar of your secrecy or whatever.”

“Yes, of course.”

Veronica sighs. “Okay, hit me.”

“You would need to remain until such time as you are able to take the oath required.”

“I can take it now. I have no desire to tell anyone about your lair of evil. One, they wouldn’t believe me. Two, I don’t actually know where we are. And three, you’d probably kill anyone I told any of this to anyway.”

“You are correct on all three counts. As it happens, the oath is part of our initiate’s ceremony. And we do not accept any initiates we deem unworthy.”

“Unworthy how?”

“Your mind, your adaptability, and your aptitude for subterfuge are to be commended, of course. As is your gumption, although not, perhaps, your particular talent for provocation. However, your knowledge of martial arts and strategy would rival a toddler’s at best.”

“Hey, I’ve been making progress.”

“Not enough.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Merely that you would have to continue to be our guest until such time as we might consider you worthy of initiation.”

“You’re saying I would have to train with your students.”

Ra’s shakes his head. “Unfortunately, your skills are far below those of our present initiates. You would have to be tutored privately.”

Veronica glares. “And who would tutor me?”

“Mr. Wayne is the reason for your presence here. It would only be fitting if he were to take responsibility for your training.”

“No.” This from Bruce. “I do not have the time to train a neophyte.”

“You have time to do whatever I determine is necessary to your training,” Ra’s says mildly. “Or have you forgotten who is master and who is student here?” There’s something dark and dangerous in his voice that Veronica has seen hints of but hasn’t heard in all the time since she awoke in the dungeons.

Bruce relents immediately. “No, master.”

“Why?”

“Why what, child?” Ra’s asks almost absently.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you making me stay here, train here?”

“The alternative would be to kill you. I am not a man who wastes the potential of a bright mind and resilient spirit because a simple lack of necessary education. Also, I have not laughed as heartily in years as I have tonight. You amuse me, and a man as old as I is allowed to indulge in his whims from time to time.”

“I’ll do it on two conditions.” She ignores the way Bruce rolls his eyes and instead focuses on Ra’s al Ghul’s amused smile.

“Ms. Mars, might I remind you that you are hardly in a position to be issuing conditions?”

“It’ll make all our lives easier,” Veronica says.

“I will listen to your conditions,” the man says, his tone like one a politician might use with a five-year-old.

“First, I’ll need to talk to my dad. He’s not going to be happy about me going off the grid for the next… I dunno, however long it takes to get my butt-kicking skills to whatever you guys consider adequate. But if I just go missing, he is going to go after Jake Kane then hunt down every lead he can find, which will probably be the leads I chased down to get to this point.”

“He would be most foolish to do so.”

Veronica’s heart stutters in her chest, but she forges on. “And then there will be two snarky, vertically challenged Mars family members on your hands instead of one. So you’re gonna help me convince him I’m here by choice. And by ‘here,’ I mean some kind of boarding school, _not_ the League of Shadows.”

“And the second condition?”

“My second condition is you let Bruce and me call Alfred.” Before either man can voice a protest, she continues. “He was really worried when the subject of the League came up, so he at least knows you guys exist. In fact, he offered me the Wayne Bounty in exchange for dropping the case, saying he felt I’d already proven that Bruce here is still alive. We’ve gotten to be friends over the past few months, and he’s just as likely to go looking for me as my father is. More, because he knows about you.”

“I can understand your need to reassure him, but why demand that Mr. Wayne speak to him as well, outside of sentiment?”

“Um, well like I said, he’ll look for me. I figured I’d tell him I found Bruce, that he isn’t ready to come home yet, but he’s promised to keep me safe.” Veronica offers a winning smile at the sight of Bruce’s consternation.

“I have done no such thing.”

“You’re gonna train me, though. Aren’t you? And not just cause Ra’s here says it’s part of your training. The moment you heard the choice he gave me, you were going to agree.”

Bruce obviously doesn’t like how easily Veronica had read the situation, read him. Still, he huffs out a breath. “Fine. If it will keep Alfred safe.”

Veronica smiles beatifically. “Thank you.” She turns to Ra’s al Ghul. “So? Do we have a deal?”

“I am afraid not.”

Veronica scowls. “What? Why not?”

At this, Ra’s actually looks apologetic. “Your conditions would be very reasonable, if the world did not already think you were dead.”

“WHAT?” Veronica jumps out of her seat and is yelling at the man, who remains perfectly calm. “WHY DO THEY THINK I’M DEAD?” She’s almost screeching the last part. Ra’s winces at the volume. She gives zero fucks about the state of his eardrums.

“Shortly after pulling away from the Detroit Metropolitan Airport, the car you and Sandra Wu-San were riding in exploded. Investigators have found evidence of an explosive device planted in the undercarriage of the vehicle.”

“So my friends, my family… they all think I’ve been blown to kingdom come.” Veronica staggers, and suddenly Bruce is there, leading her back toward the couch and sitting her down. “They think I’m dead.”

“Indeed.”

“So my choices are to be dead for real or stay here and train until I can qualify for your little assassin school because you need me to make some kind of oath.”

“A blood oath, yes.”

“What, is there some kind of voodoo magic ritual?”

“The League of Shadows does not use such unstable magics as those employed in voudoun, but the ritual does involve a magicked blade.”

“Great.”

“If it is any consolation, should you desire to return to your old life instead of continuing to train with us once you have been initiated, it would be a simple matter to concoct a story about your having been captured and held against your will.”

“And in the meantime, I’m just supposed to let everyone I care about think I’m dead? Let them mourn me?” Veronica’s rage is a fire in her chest, in her veins.

Ra’s reply freezes everything inside her. “Would you prefer they look for you? My organization is not known for tolerance when it comes to those who would seek to uncover our secrets. Or would you prefer to grieve for them instead of have them grieve for you?”

She slumps in her seat. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?” she whispers, tears in her eyes.

“I am afraid not, child. I… admit I had not entertained the idea of taking you on as a guest until we spoke downstairs. I regret the pain our precautionary measures have caused you. As I have said, I do like you.”

“I don’t like you at all right now.”

“That is regrettable, yet understandable.”

“So what now?”

“Now, I believe it is best you get some rest.” The Head of the Demon rises, and Veronica and Bruce follow suit. “Detective,” he says, then pauses and chuckles. “But then again you are both detectives, are you not? Still, it is to Bruce that I have given that sobriquet, as it was this quality of his that first drew my interest.”

Veronica and Bruce say nothing, and Ra’s shakes his head ruefully. “Ah well. Where was I? Oh yes. Detective, please show Ms. Mars to the room beside yours. As she is to be your apprentice, if not in the way that you are mine, it would be best to keep her close. The other students may resent her presence. You’ll recall the difficulties you yourself have experienced.”

Veronica’s eyes widen as the three of them stand up, but Bruce glares at her and give a slight shake of his head when she opens her mouth to speak. “There were no difficulties I was not prepared to face,” he says gravely. “I will show Ms. Mars to her quarters.”

“I expect you to perform an assessment of Ms. Mars’s skills and the gaps in her education you would need to help her fill. I will instruct Lady Shiva to assist you in matters of martial arts training, as I believe you will find this her biggest failing as a potential initiate.”

“It will be done.”

To Veronica, Ra’s says, “Your belongings will already have been brought there, although we have confiscated your electronics for the time being. I have also left instructions to place appropriate training outfits in your wardrobe.”

“Thank you, um…” She grimaces. “I hope you aren’t expecting me to call you ‘master.’ After years of chasing money shots in sex clubs, there is just no way I’m gonna be able to do that without any ick-factor. Like, seriously. Not my kink, plus you’re old enough to be my dad. Or if you were serious about the six hundred years, my many-times-great grandpa. And then there’s the whole supposedly-not-a-vampire-but-still-a-villain issue.”

The man ends up chuckling again. “You can call me Ra’s, child.” He shakes his head. “I expect I will find your tenure here most entertaining.”


	8. When in Nanda Parbat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica is a smartass. Bruce is a hardass. It’s a tactical advantage, apparently.

Veronica expects Bruce to ditch her as soon as he shows her to her room, but to her surprise, he steps inside and closes the door behind him.

“I don’t know if you’re hiding balls of steel or if you’re just a peculiar kind of stupid, provoking Ra’s like that.”

Veronica tilts her head at him. “Whatever do you mean?” she asks in a sickly sweet voice.

“So, not stupid then. Although I suppose it’s possible that you have some kind of congenital disorder that robs you of any sense of self-preservation whatsoever.”

She widens her eyes and slackens her face in an exaggerated look of surprise and indignation. “Have you been talking to my ex-boyfriend, by any chance?”

“Which one do you mean, the one who thought it might be a good idea to antagonize the mafia or the one who thought he was your brother?”

Temper flaring, Veronica stalks over to him. “You, Bruce Wayne,” she huffs, jabbing a finger into the center of his admittedly very solid chest, “are a callous, entitled prick. I can’t believe Alfred thinks the sun shines out of your ass.”

He barks out a laugh. “I’m very sure he doesn’t think that.”

“If _you_ think that, you aren’t as observant or perceptive as you’ve been training yourself to be.”

Veronica paces to the window, opens the shutters, and peers out. She’s high up—it’s a sheer drop of at least five stories below. It’s night, so she can’t make anything out of the landscape beyond it, but the unadulterated chill convinces her they’re probably telling the truth about being in the Himalayas, so she hurriedly shuts the window again.

When she turns back, Bruce is sitting in the room’s only chair, watching her. “What?”

“How is Alfred?”

“Worried. Lonely. He’s determined to bury himself in that mausoleum of yours until you come home. He hasn’t taken a vacation in five years, or even left the city for more than a night at a time.”

Bruce frowns. “I never asked that of him.”

Veronica sighs. “I got the feeling he’d be there even if you told him to leave. He doesn’t want to take the risk that the one time he goes away is the one time you’ll come back.” She narrows her eyes. “Which is why, when you leave here, the first thing you will do is go see him.”

“Hnn.”

“Now, if that’s all, I guess I’d better unpack because it looks like I’m gonna be here for a while.”

He stands up. “Wear the gear the League quartermaster would’ve left in your wardrobe. I’ll wake you at five in the morning so we can begin your training. I expect you to be read fifteen minutes after I knock.”

“Five? Are you insane or just sadistic?”

One side of Bruce’s mouth quirks into what might almost be a smile. “I thought I would let you sleep in on your first day here. I normally begin my warmups at four.”

“Okay, both insane _and_ sadistic, then,” Veronica decides.

“Hnn.” He heads toward the door to let himself out. Pauses. “Mine is the first door on the right. Come to me if you need anything. I don’t suggest roaming around on your own, especially before you know the Shadows better.”

“Ra’s mentioned you had some trouble with other students,” she says after a moment.

He turns to her, shakes his head. “It’s unlikely to be an issue for you, unless you decide to stay after your initiation. I suspect many of the people here will think of you as something like…” He pauses. “Like a stray pet Ra’s has decided to keep for his own amusement.”

“He _was_ really amused by me for some reason,” Veronica says, frowning.

“It’s probably what saved your life.”

“You mean other than your agreeing to train me?”

“He had already decided to order your training by the time I arrived.”

“How do you know?”

“If he had wanted you dead, you would never have left your cell. It’s much easier to clean the blood out of it than the study, which has carpets. I suspect that was the plan, originally.”

“Oh.”

Bruce shakes his head. “A word of advice? Stay on his good side. Even if it means being treated like a puppy who hasn’t been housetrained.”

“Even if I hate his guts?”

“Especially then. If it helps, the only difference between now and several hours ago is that your family was going to mourn you in truth. Now they have a chance to get you back. And for better or worse, that’s because you caught the attention of Ra’s al Ghul.”

“I’m not really sure why I’m on his good side to begin with.”

“Nobody talks to Ra’s al Ghul the way you did. He seems to find it… refreshing.”

“You mean I have my inability to keep from shooting off at the mouth when nervous or angry to thank for my life?”

“It seems that way.”

“So your advice is, keep being a smartass? That is the first time anyone has ever proposed that as a lifesaving measure.”

“It’s a… unique tactical advantage.”

Veronica lets out an exaggerated sigh. “So is this how it’s gonna be?” A raised eyebrow is all she gets in reply. She points at him. “You, hardass.” She points to her chest. “Me, wiseass.” She beams her best ditzy blonde smile at him. “Together, we’re going to bring sunshine and rainbows into this most dreary of evil lairs.”

He snorts. “Not a chance on that.” He pauses. “But if we keep up our assigned roles, we just might survive to get back to Gotham without a League contract on our heads.”

Veronica narrows her eyes at him. “Why are you worried about that? You can leave any time.”

“You really believe that?”

“Well, if it’s not true, then why this whole song and dance about you training me ‘til I can make that oath or whatever, if they won’t really let me go?”

“Oh, they’ll let you go. Ra’s is at the very least a man of his word. Although if you prove yourself enough to warrant initiation, he’ll reserve the right to try to persuade you to stay.”

“So you think he won’t let you go,” Veronica says.

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you one day. For now, get some sleep. It’s late, and I’ll be at your door at five.”

“I hate you.”

“You’ll hate me more in the morning. And Veronica?”

It’s the first time he’s said her name. “Yeah?”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for my part in setting you on the path that led you here.”

“You’re not responsible for that.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But I’m sorry anyway.”

“Then, for what it’s worth, which isn’t a whole lot because as I said, it’s not your fault… thanks.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

He’s right about one thing. She does hate him more in the morning. It takes her forever to fall asleep, and it seems like fifteen minutes later, the guy is knocking on her door. She ignores him, but he keeps knocking in a rhythm too irregular to fade into the background so she can fall back asleep.

When she opens the door with a growl, he raises an eyebrow at her creased face and impressive bedhead. “You have fifteen minutes,” he tells her, then stalks back to his room.

She is not too sleepy to notice that he’s dressed in loose pants and a black tank top and has already worked up a light sheen of sweat. The guy is either a machine or one of those disgusting morning people who greet the day with pep and cheer. She doesn’t know which would be worse. She hopes he’s not both.

She spent most of the rest of the previous night thinking about the people she left behind. She spent a lot of time thinking about her dad, about how he must be feeling. She wondered about Mac and Wallace, but thought they might be okay eventually.

The other person she was most worried about was Logan. She knows he’s lost so many people in his life, and he’s dealt badly with each and every blow.

She knows he still cares about her—his Christmas gift says as much—and she wishes there were someway she could tell him she is still alive. But he would try to find her, and that would land him in even more trouble than beating up some Russian mobster’s kid.

And he’d probably drag Mac and possibly Duncan into it, endangering them as well. So radio silence really is the only solution Veronica is able to come up with. This leaves Veronica in a terrible mood this morning, which is only compounded by her lack of sleep.

Fifteen minutes after she opens her door, Bruce is back. She follows him to a large room with a mirrored wall, much like a dance studio, and he watches her silently as she goes through the stretches she’s done just about every day since she first started working with Ted and Dinah. Finally, she stands before him.

“Come at me.”

“Huh?”

“Come at me,” Bruce says. “I need to assess your abilities.”

So she does. And he puts her on the floor before she can even make a move. “Ow.”

He gives her a hand up. “Again.”

Floor. Hurts.

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

He slows himself down, she notices. But she’s still on the floor within ten seconds or less. Eventually, after he sets her back on her feet, she just lies down on the ground. “I thought I’d save you the trouble.”

He snorts. “Fine. We’ll start from the beginning.”

So she spends the next hour learning to fall. Which was the first thing she learned with Ted and Dinah, and which she also learned when she started her Krav Maga classes.

But none of those incidents have prepared her for what it means to learn breakfalls when Bruce Wayne _throws_ you.

Because when he sees she knows the basics, he starts kicking her feet out from under her, knocking her over, and outright picking her up and throwing her. Plus, she’s tiny and he’s not, so Bruce can actually throw her pretty far.

At some point, a woman comes in and observes them. Veronica recognizes her as the woman who picked her up from the airport. She’s not sure at this point if Sandra Wu-San is a real identity or not. Either way, during a short break, Bruce introduces her as Lady Shiva. The woman nods, but says nothing, and eventually leaves the room.

By six-thirty in the morning, Veronica has decided she’s going to find Ra’s al Ghul and tell him she’s ready to die.

She tells Bruce as much, asks him to say goodbye to Alfie for her when he finally decides to go home. He snorts and takes her to breakfast. She can barely manage the strength to eat it. Her hand trembles as she holds her spoon.

He waits until she finishes, then drags her to the library—the real library, as apparently the huge room they’d been in last night is just Ra’s al Ghul’s personal study—to drill her on her knowledge of economic warfare, strategic allocation of resources in battle, and other things she’s never had to think about.

She doesn’t really realize it’s what he’s doing until days later, though, because he poses his questions to her by giving her hypothetical situations inspired by historic events, and then asking her first for an assessment of the scenario and then her recommendations. He looks disgusted by her about half the time, but grunts in response the other half.

She’s learning to hate his grunts.

She’s also learning they’re kind of a language in and of themselves, and she decides she’ll probably need to become fluent in grunt-speak.

Though it quickly becomes obvious it’s not the only language she’ll need to learn here. He spends some time drilling her languages and accents as well. He discovers she is almost a native speaker in Spanish, although he cautions her to take note of the colloquialisms she uses, which are apparently very Southern California.

Funnily enough, up until now, her dad is probably the only person who knows she speaks the language as well as she does. She’s always believed the gangs she dealt with in Neptune are better off not knowing she can understand everything they say in front of her.

Bruce deems her Mandarin atrocious and her high school French not worth mentioning.

Shortly before noon, they are both called into Ra’s al Ghul’s study.

“Good morning, child,” the head of the League of Shadows greets her. “Detective.”

“Good morning, he says,” Veronica mumbles. She’s not _trying_ to be an ass, but for some reason, the guy just triggers it. She wonders if Logan was right, back when they’d been playing their breakup-makeup game, about her needing to see a shrink.

“I take it to mean it has not been a good morning.”

“I think I changed my mind about this whole thing.”

“Oh? In what sense?”

“I think you should probably just kill me.” She ignores the huff of breath that is Bruce trying not to snort. “It would be kinder. He made my whole body hurt, and then he made my brain hurt for good measure.”

“I am not known for being kind, child.” Now Ra’s is chuckling. Perfect.

“It could be our secret. I’d take it to my grave. You would deliver me there.”

Ra’s laughs delightedly. “I’m afraid you must stay the course you have committed to.”

“I could make myself very annoying so you would want to kill me.”

“I suspect it would have the opposite effect.”

“You’re very strange, even for a villain.”

“You think of me as a villain?” There is no anger, only curiosity in the older man’s expression.

“Your name means ‘Head of the Demon.’ You’re the leader of a group of ninja assassins called the League of Shadows. You faked my death so you could have a conversation with me. Then you told me I had to join your cult or die. And you do that thing with your hands.” She gestures toward his steepled fingers. “The only thing you could do to make yourself _more_ like an evil villain is to decide to call yourself Dr. Evil or something. You probably have a pit of acid somewhere in this haunted castle of yours.”

“Not acid, no,” Ra’s murmurs. Bruce chokes, but shakes his head when Veronica raises an eyebrow at him. “And I would never go by an appellation as tacky as Dr. Evil, which I believe is from a popular movie franchise. But I suppose I can see your point. Although I do not believe my goals are villainous, only perhaps unpopular and often misunderstood.”

“Hate to break it to you, dude, that’s _exactly_ something a villain would say.”

“I suppose I shall just have to prove myself to you.” There’s no mistaking the amusement in the Demon Head’s voice. He sobers when he turns to Bruce. “So, Detective, having spent the morning with your new friend, what is your assessment of her needs?”

“She will need extensive martial arts training. What she knows is virtually negligible. Even with Lady Shiva and I working on her it will take at least a year, possibly two, to rid her of bad habits and bring her to level of basic competence.”

Veronica scowls and bites down on all the retorts she is tempted to spit out. From the glances she receives from Bruce and Ra’s (the former’s flat and the latter’s amused), they are well aware of her restraint.

“She is completely untutored in economics, history, and strategy, although she shows some natural potential for strategic thinking, pattern recognition, and problem solving. Her sole language competencies are in American English and Mexican Spanish, although she is reliably able to mimic accents in English. She has rudimentary Mandarin, enough to pass for a tourist, perhaps.”

“You will need to drill her on those subjects. And she will need to learn Arabic and Japanese as well as improve her Mandarin if she is to eventually interact with other initiates.”

“Yes. I would suggest functional Pashto, Farsi, and Russian as well. She should be able to get conversant in those six languages fairly quickly with a combination of the Michel Thomas and Pimsleur methods.”

“Very well. Requisition the necessary materials and draw up a schedule and timetable for her.”

Veronica resists the urge to groan at the realization that she is going to spend the next year doing nothing but study and get beaten up in training. _Fucking assassin school_ , she thinks. She only manages to restrain her temper by reminding herself that she needs to learn whatever they have to teach her so she can go home and reassure her family that she hasn’t been blown up.

“Ms. Mars—may I call you Veronica?”

She shrugs. “Not like I can stop you.” When he regards her calmly, as if he has all the time to wait until she gives her permission, she sighs. “Yeah, you can call me Veronica.”

“Excellent. Veronica, it is not my goal to make your time here completely miserable, despite what you might think of the circumstances that have led you here. I am hopeful that you may even choose to remain with us when you are offered the choice to return.”

Veronica snorts at that, but Ra’s only smiles.

“I realize you will require some persuasion on that point. In any case, what you learn here should prove useful to you whatever you decide for your future. And though you believe I am currently the villain of your narrative, I do have utter confidence that your future, like Bruce’s, will be extraordinary. I hope one day you will cease to see me as your enemy, as I would very much like for us to be on the same side when the League’s plans come to fruition.”

Veronica lifts her hand and rubs her thumb and forefinger together in a leisurely motion.

Ra’s frowns. “What is that?”

“The world’s smallest violin playing as the soundtrack to your woe-is-me-I-am-a-misunderstood-villain act.”

Ra’s chuckles and shakes his head. “Take her to lunch, Bruce, then start her on her Mandarin before you attend to your own training. Lady Shiva will find her in the library this afternoon. Then I would like you both to join me for dinner.”

Bruce executes a bow she’s seen the other assassins make before leaving the presence of the Head of Demons. His bow, however, is not quite as deep as the others’, and she wonders if that means anything.

“Until tonight, Veronica,” Ra’s says as she follows Bruce out.

“I’ll be waiting with bated breath.” Her voice is dry as dust, and his laughter follows her out the door. One of the servants passes by right when they exit, and he turns an interesting shade of puce at the sound.

She sighs, then catches up to Bruce. He’s so tall and walks so purposefully that she has to take two steps for every one of his. She feels like a child. “That went well.”

“It did.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I don’t suppose you’d consider scheduling some naptime right about now?”

“No. Lunch, then we’ll load up your laptop with some of the language courses for Mandarin. Ra’s has allocated a room for our use in the library.”

“Well, I could eat. But they confiscated my laptop and mobile.”

“They’ll give them back. They’re probably already in the library. You won’t be able to connect to the internet or get cell service, but you can use them to study, listen to music, whatever. Though the only place you’ll be able to charge them are the library or Ra’s study. And I would suggest not saving anything on your devices that you don’t want the League to see.”

“Right.”

They start heading down a set of stairs. It’s a very long set of stairs. “Other initiates will be at lunch. Ignore them. Stick close to me.”

“Try to be invisible?”

“Yes.”

“I’m guessing from the ‘difficulties’ Ra’s mentioned last night, you’re not very popular with the initiates.” When Bruce stays silent, she takes that for confirmation. “And I’m guessing me being alive and uninitiated is gonna make me persona non grata too?” More silence. “Great, it’s just like high school then.” Silence. “Do you have _any_ friends here?” Silence. “Okay, just me then.”

“We’re not friends.”

“Hmm. I guess. Friendship is earned. So I guess you’re more like my sponsor. Or my big brother.”

“No.”

“Yeah, you totally are.”

“I am not.”

“You’re gonna teach me how to beat up on boys who wanna hurt me. You’re training me so Ra’s doesn’t have to kill me cause I suck at literal ass-kicking, although you should know that in other fields, I can and have most definitely kicked major ass. I solved my first murder when I was seventeen. I’m kind of a badass. You _want_ me to be your sister. You already care about me.”

“I really don’t.”

“You do.”

“Do not.”

“See? You even argue like a brother.”

“What do I need to do to shut you up.”

“I dunno. Feed me?”

He picks up the pace, so Veronica is practically jogging to keep up with him. They enter a large room which Veronica supposes is the mess hall. Bruce leads her to a counter where a servant hands each of them a tray loaded with a bowl of soup and another bowl with some meat topping a large serving of rice.

Bruce leads her to a table in the center of the room. They sit down.

“You don’t want to keep your back to the wall or whatever?”

“Shadows do not attack each other with firearms, particularly not within the walls of one of its headquarters. If I were to sit in the corner with my back to the wall, I would be telling the initiates I have no confidence in my ability to detect and defend against their attacks.”

“So you’re sitting here to alpha dog the room?”

“More or less. If you need to know who in this room might be the greatest danger to you, rank them from the center outward.”

“That makes you the number one threat.”

“Indeed.”

“Does this mean they’re going to think of _me_ as a threat?”

“Only if they are delusional.”

“So our sitting here is you telling them you are the biggest, baddest mofo in town and you’ll protect me.”

“Hnn.”

Veronica tilts her head at him then offers him a beatific smile. “It’s a good thing you’re my big brother, then, huh?”

“Eat. You’ll need the calories.”

Veronica groans, remembering that Ra’s said she will be training with another teacher in the afternoon. “Is Lady Shiva as bad as you are?”

For the first time, she sees Bruce truly smile. It’s a beautiful sight. It just figures it’s triggered by schadenfreude. “She’s worse,” he tells her. He sounds downright cheerful. For the first time since waking up in the dungeon, Veronica is well and truly scared shitless.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

That evening, over a fancy dinner straight out of a Bronte novel, Ra’s inquires as to how her first day went. He is amused by her semi-serious proclamations that he should just have mercy and kill her already.

Eventually, he asks her about her life and, in particular, the cases she’s investigated. She tries to deflect, but he is a skilled interrogator, and she ends up giving the equivalent of verbal reports. He is very interested in her methods, however. So is Bruce.

“I am surprised you have solved as many cases as you have without any self-defense training,” Ra’s observes over dessert.

Veronica shrugs. “It helps that I have a taser and am happy to use it. And I’ve been lucky, not just in the general sense, but also in my friends. My dad’s great. He’s always got my back. Or as much as I let him, anyway. My friends are the same way, I guess.”

“It seems to be reciprocated, given that your presence here is a direct result of the bargain you struck with Jake Kane for their sake.”

“I wouldn’t call it a _direct_ result,” Veronica mumbles. “I must’ve checked out hundreds of leads on Bruce’s disappearance.”

“You think it coincidence then, that you were put on the case at the same time as the decision was made to recruit him into the League of Shadows?”

Veronica narrows her eyes at him. She also doesn’t miss the momentary blankness of Bruce’s face that tells her he’s surprised as well. “I’m guessing not,” she says flatly.

“We merely presented you with the opportunity to make your way to us,” Ra’s says, smiling slightly. “You could have stepped away from this path at any time in the year you spent investigating.”

“You’re saying you schemed to get me here.”

“You were one among several prospects. That you proved to be amusing as well was an unlooked-for boon.”

“Why?”

“Because I am an old man, and I take my amusements where I find them.”

“No, I mean, why did you want me here?”

“All will be revealed in time, child. Should you prove my beliefs about you correct, I will have a task for you.”

“Yippeekay-yay,” Veronica deadpans.

Ra’s laughs. “But the time for you to know these things is not now. For tonight, do you by any chance play chess?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no functional knowledge of martial arts whatsoever. The training/assessment stuff the characters do in this fic are inspired by what I think looks cool or crazy, which in turn is inspired by watching too many action flicks.


	9. Harsh Taskmasters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One does not simply waltz through assassin school. Veronica’s teachers pound her body to dust and her brain to mush. At least, that’s what it feels like.

Veronica’s days fall into a rhythm she eventually starts to get used to, although begrudgingly and much to the continued amusement of Ra’s al Ghul, who has taken to calling her _little kitten_ or simply _kitten_ , sometimes _quth saghiruh_.

They take dinner with him more often than not, and Veronica is simultaneously creeped out by him and possessed of an urge to needle him about his villainy, which seems to entertain him to no end.

She learns that the seemingly throwaway remark Ra’s had made about time running differently in Nanda Parbat was nothing short of truth. Though she tracks the days, she makes a point of asking Ra’s about the current date from time to time. Sometimes her count is days off, sometimes entire weeks. Elasticity indeed. Eventually she stops trying to make sense of it.

Meanwhile, her time is taken up by training, studying, lessons, and more training. Bruce and Shiva are both harsh taskmasters. Veronica saves her complaints for Bruce, though, who mostly ignores them. Though she considers it a personal victory any time she can get him to snark back at her.

She has made it a mission to make a friend of Bruce, and she has never had to work so hard to gain so little ground with a person before.

Then again, she supposes, turnabout is fair play. In her childhood, she had simply fallen into friendship that deepened into true sisterhood with Lilly Kane. Logan Echolls and Duncan Kane had rounded out their group with little effort on Veronica’s part, at least as far as the actual feelings of friendship were concerned.

Sure, she worked hard to keep her friends out of trouble and (especially in Lilly and Logan’s cases) to cover for them when they just couldn’t help themselves, but she hadn’t had to work to convince them to be her friends in the first place. And then they hadn’t been.

After Lilly’s death, she had closed herself off from everyone. Arguably, the friends she’d made had been in her life because they had stubbornly made a place for themselves, despite her prickly attitude and unwillingness to trust. This was true of the advent of Wallace, Mac, Meg, and even Logan 3.0 (assuming 1.0 was Fab Four Logan and 2.0 was obligatory psychotic jackass Logan) into her life.

So Veronica takes a page from her friends’ books and stubbornly refuses to _not_ be Bruce’s friend. Which annoys him to no end. But maybe she has that much in common with Ra’s, that the more irritated Bruce gets, the more it amuses Veronica.

Still, she notices, after a few weeks, he starts doing more than simply fulfilling the requirements of her training, as far as she is concerned.

Rather than simply drilling her in languages, he insists on conversing with her in whatever language she is learning (she gains what he considers a tolerable level of fluency in Mandarin after about two months of intensive study, then he has her starting from scratch in Arabic) during martial arts training and any activity that does not require high-level language competency.

Somehow, he notices her tendency to brood at night, so he teaches her how to meditate. She’s not sure how he knows when she gets nightmares, but on the mornings that follow, he always offers her fruit of some sort before they start training. He even starts prodding her into making the kind of snappy statements that Ra’s seems to enjoy when they have dinner with the man.

After dinner, Ra’s habitually quizzes Bruce on anything from matters of economic strategy or the significance of certain events in history or intricacies of international law or even contrasting philosophies through the ages.

At first, Veronica is a silent listener, focusing on the chess games she almost inevitably ends up playing with Bruce and not participating in their rather scarily intense discussions.

They analyze historical assassinations like her dad and his best friend discuss baseball games, and they talk about how they might topple entire nations’ economies like a soccer mom plans a trip to the supermarket.

Then, slowly, Bruce starts asking Veronica’s opinions or suggestions, always posed in a slightly condescending tone guaranteed to put Veronica’s back (and her snark) up. Ra’s himself falls into the habit, and the evenings often feature the old man’s laughter, which continually discomfits any servants who might be in the room at the time.

Veronica feels keenly the inequitable nature of her relationship with Bruce, as she is on the receiving end of his efforts to educate her and, as he’d put it her first night here, keep her on Ra’s al Ghul’s hitherto undiscovered good side.

However, she does notice one benefit of their friendship: thanks to her “amusing pet” status, most of the initiates leave them alone. In her first few days in Nanda Parbat, she discovered that ninja assassin initiates enjoyed backbiting and little acts of cruelty just as much as your typical high school mean girl, and until her arrival Bruce had been their favorite target.

Of course, in Nanda Parbat, nobody flushes your clothes down the toilet, decorates your locker, or duct tapes you to a flagpole like they might in Neptune High. Bullying is something that involves flying fists and feet and things with razor-sharp edges. Nevertheless, it is still a form of bullying, and Veronica is well-versed in their language.

This is a dynamic she understands, so she uses what power she has with a finesse she’d have to thank Lilly and Logan (crowned Neptune High’s Queen and King) for. She walks Bruce to and from his sparring sessions and makes sure to exude “excited puppy” vibes when she does so.

Ra’s is very helpful in this regard, although Veronica is never sure exactly how much of it is intentional on the Demon’s part.

Once, they walk past Ra’s al Ghul, flanked by his hulking manservant Ubu and a few of his advisors. Just outside the sparring area, Ra’s pauses, takes a moment to pat Veronica on the head, chuckles when she growls, then moves on. The entire encounter takes no more than ten, fifteen seconds, and Ra’s quits the room immediately afterward, but all activity simply stops and suddenly all eyes are on Veronica, who looks equally shocked.

Bruce smirks. “He really does think of you as a feisty little kitten,” he observes in Mandarin. When she growls again, he actually chuckles before going off to spar with one of the Shadows (he is past the point where the other initiates can prove themselves a challenge as sparring partners).

After that, the initiates treat Veronica with a sort of deferential tolerance that extends to Bruce. She shamelessly takes advantage of this and maintains the façade of overeager harmlessness.

Bruce ignores it for the most part, though once or twice he actually ends up patting her on the head or shoulder himself. She is always smug when she gets him to forget his vaunted restraint in this manner.

Unexpectedly, she also finds herself growing fond of her other trainer, the even more taciturn Lady Shiva. For the first several months of her training, the woman keeps their discussions to instructions and assessments. The latter are invariably harsh as the assassin takes no prisoners and suffers no fools under any circumstances. When Veronica asks for clarifications or asks other questions related to martial arts, Lady Shiva’s replies are succinct to the point of rudeness.

Still, while she often wastes her breath with insults and complaints when training with Bruce, she is nothing but silently diligent when training with the female assassin. This is especially difficult for Veronica, who has spent her entire life in the company of opinionated people who are all too often incapable of keeping said opinions to themselves.

But Lady Shiva is a genius whose primary language is that of the body. She reads the intent in every movement. And while she tries (and often fails) to impart this to Veronica, the blonde detective is nevertheless in complete awe of her teacher. She wonders what Dr. Cal Lightman would make of Lady Shiva.

So with her, Veronica is diligent, obedient, and studious. Sometimes that means never speaking a word to the other woman in the hours between meeting and parting, especially after Veronica learns the hand signals and modified Morse code the League uses for wordless communication.

Her restraint eventually pays off. One day, Lady Shiva tells her she has finally learned to adequately counter a particular move. Used to a barrage of criticism, Veronica’s mouth drops open in shock, and she completely fails to block a blow that leaves her on the ground, her vision blurred and her head ringing.

Eventually she recovers enough of her senses to realize that Lady Shiva is bending over her, informing her that she most likely has a concussion.

Veronica smiles dreamily. “Does that mean I hallucinated you telling me I did something adequately instead of abysmally for once in my life?”

“As I informed you of this before you completely dropped your guard like a rank imbecile, you did not. However, if this is how you react when complimented, I will endeavor to remember never to do so again.”

“Admit it, I’m getting better.”

“Were you not, I would have advised Ra’s al Ghul to execute you as he had initially planned, regardless of the entertainment you provide him.”

“Aww, you’re just full of encouragement today.” Veronica smiles happily despite the pain in her head. She lets Shiva help her up, and the assassin even moves to support her weight when the blonde finds her legs unsteady.

“I will escort you to your quarters and inform Bruce of your injuries. He will make your apologies to Ra’s this evening and ensure you are given a light repast.”

Since previous mishaps during training have taught Veronica that overeating after a concussion often results in upheavals of the gastronomic kind, she thanks the other woman for her kindness. In the past, Shiva would leave such menial tasks to the servants, who are all too eager to carry out the orders of one of the Shadows’ most skilled assassins.

In the end, this newfound tolerance (Veronica doubts either of them would call it friendship just yet, if ever) ends up saving Veronica’s life. Halfway through the soup a servant brought to her room at dinnertime, the world does a slow, dizzying roll and her vision blurs at the edges.

Veronica has felt a similar effect twice before: once when she drank from a drugged cup at a party in high school that led to her being raped at the age of fifteen, and again when she was deliberately dosed by a pair of serial rapists who’d used her college as their hunting ground.

She feels her limbs growing heavy, and she struggles to her feet, fights to make her way to the door. She makes it out into the hallway before she collapses.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

She is awakened somewhat when strong arms half-lift and half-drag her back into her room. Someone sticks a finger down her throat, and she throws up what little she has eaten onto the floor before she is helped into bed.

She lifts heavy lids to see Shiva’s slanted eyes, the woman’s lips thinned into a harsh line of anger or concern. “You have been poisoned,” Shiva says. “Try to stay awake. I will send for a physician and inform Ra’s and Bruce.”

Veronica struggles to keep her eyes open and fails. She knows some time has passed when she is awakened again to see Shiva and Bruce crowding her vision. “In th’soup,” she slurs.

Shiva leaves, and Veronica blinks her vision into a modicum of clarity, although it’s still blurry enough that she can only make out vague, dizzying shapes. Shiva and Ra’s (at least Veronica assumes it’s Ra’s from the slash of green in her vision) are standing over her dinner tray. Shiva dips a finger into the soup and brings it to her mouth.

“Don’t,” Veronica mumbles. Bruce shushes her, brushes her hair from her face, which is sweaty despite the chill that is always present in any room in the League of Shadows’ Nanda Parbat fortress.

“Aconitum,” Lady Shiva pronounces. “And possibly something else, given the speed of her reaction and her symptoms.”

“GHB or somethin’,” Veronica manages to whisper. She’s not sure anyone hears.

“Veronica says it’s GHB or something like it,” Bruce tells them. Bending closer, he asks, “How do you know?”

“Feels like… that time in high school,” she mumbles. “Shelly’s party. Then in Hearst.”

Veronica doesn’t realize her hands and feet are numb until she can feel Bruce squeezing one of her hands tightly in response to her slurred words. His other hand is on her neck, fingers at her pulse. “Okay,” he says. “You’ll be okay. We’ll get the antidotes. You’re safe.”

“Bruce?”

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing her hand again. “It’s me.”

“Don’t leave me alone,” she manages, then passes out.

He doesn’t, and neither does Shiva, it seems. Both are present when Ubu, Ra’s al Ghul’s personal manservant and (apparently) physician, administers the antidote orally and puts her on an IV.

Vaguely, she will later remember him giving them instructions to monitor her heart rate and breathing, to administer digitalis in case of arrhythmia. Bruce will also tell her later with quiet pride that the instructions she heard had been delivered in Arabic, which she had been studying before Bruce had switched her to lessons in Nihongo.

It is late the following evening when Veronica recovers full consciousness. Bruce is dozing in her chair, a book in his lap, but the moment she shifts in bed, his eyes snap open. Midnight blue orbs burn with intensity as he takes in her face. “Veronica,” he says.

“Bruce?” she croaks. He moves to her bedside, helps raise her so she can sip water from a cup he brings up to her lips. After a few sips, she collapses back into bed, exhausted. “How long have I been out?”

“Approximately fourteen hours. How do you feel?”

She grimaces. “Like I was drugged and poisoned.”

He snorts. “That’s helpful. Any pain? Numbness?”

She frowns, takes a few moments to assess. “Some stomach pain, but not too bad. Tingling in my fingers and toes, a bit.”

“Okay. You’re okay.” He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, she stares at the relief evident in his features.

She manages a small smile. “Don’t tell me you were worried.”

He scowls. “You could have died. You have had that soup before. Did you not wonder at the sweetness?”

“No? I thought maybe someone added something to it cause of the concussion.” Veronica pouts.

“Someone did add something to it,” Bruce reminds her. “GHB and aconite—belladonna.”

“So someone tried to kill me?”

“Ra’s believes so.”

“Why?”

“You would have to ask him.”

Veronica’s face darkens. “I will.”

“Tomorrow,” Bruce says. “For now, can you take some food? I will taste it for you.”

“So you can be poisoned too if someone tries again?” Veronica frowns. “I don’t think I can eat anything. I still feel kind of nauseated.”

“All right. Drink some more water, at least, then get some more sleep, or Shiva will have my head.”

“Shiva?” Veronica lets him help her sit up so she can sip at her water.

“I don’t know what you did, but she’s suddenly become very protective of you. I had to remind her you are _my_ apprentice before she would go to bed. She stayed through the night and day and only left a couple of hours ago.”

“She’s nicer than I realized.”

“I don’t know how you keep charming these cold-blooded killers into treating you like they’re mama bears to your cub,” Bruce mutters irritably. “Even Ra’s has been in a couple of times to check on his little _quth saghiruh_.”

“Don’t be jealous.” Veronica lies back down, utterly exhausted by the effort of drinking half a glass of water. “You’re still my one and only big brother.”

“You’re delirious. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t leave.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Veronica, you were dosed with GHB. I will not leave until we are sure the drug is out of your system.”

“Thanks, Bruce.”

“You’re welcome, little sister.”

“Ha! It took getting poisoned, but you finally admit it.”

“It was a manner of expression.” He’s scowling, and that makes Veronica smile.

“Expression for how you think you’re my big brother.”

“No.”

“I think so too.”

“You are not in your right mind.”

“Mmm. So what’s your excuse?”

“Shut up.”

“Bruce?”

“What.”

“Read to me? Don’t want to think. Or remember.”

So he does. He doesn’t bother to tell her what he’s reading. Veronica’s not sure whether it’s her concussion or the lasting effects of the poison, but she can’t seem to understand what he’s talking about. “Bruce?”

He stops reading. “Yes?”

“What are you reading?”

“Chapter twelve of the second edition of _Thermodynamics and Fluid Mechanics for Mechanical Engineers_.”

“Seriously?” He holds up the book so she can squint at the cover. She snorts. “You’re such a nerd. You’re like a nerd’s nerd. A nerd to the twelfth power even.”

“You asked me to read to you. This is the book I had on hand.”

She waves an imperious hand. “Carry on. I’m sure to fall asleep before you get halfway through that chapter.”

He starts reading again, his voice an even baritone. She’s asleep before he gets to the next page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any phrases in a foreign language used in this fiction are likely to have been taken from the dubious translations offered by Google. Would love it if anyone sent me corrections for it, but if you are not so inclined, I hope they don't irritate too much.


	10. What Doesn’t Kill You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce investigates the attempt on Veronica’s life, and Veronica gets a case of the jellies over his detective tools.

“So why does someone want me dead?” Veronica asks a few nights later, when she is strong enough to rejoin Ra’s and Bruce for dinner.

Her martial arts training has been suspended for the rest of the week, and she is confined to her rooms to study and sleep. Bruce and Shiva share their meals with her, and by the second day of this treatment, she is ready to climb walls. She’s actually glad when Bruce shows up to bring her to dinner with Ra’s.

“I suspect there are multiple reasons why someone would target you,” Ra’s says evenly. “The majority of which would be that your death would weaken my position.”

Veronica tilts her head. “Why? I’m not even an initiate.”

“My… affection… for you is well-known.” Ra’s actually looks a little uncomfortable when he admits this, though his face quickly hardens into uncompromising lines. “If someone wished to destabilize my position within the League of Shadows, showing I am unable to protect you within my own headquarters is one avenue they might traverse.”

“So they want to kill your ‘pet’ to show people you’re not the big baddie you’re supposed to be?”

The Head of the Demon chuckles. “It would take more than this manner of childish manipulation to oust me from my position.”

“You’re confident.”

“I have held my title for six hundred years. My confidence is justified.”

“So what other reasons might someone have to poison my food?”

“Perhaps you should speculate. Are you not a professional investigator?”

Veronica has been speculating, of course. After all, she’s had so much time in the past few days to do nothing but lie in bed and think. “They probably suspect I’m here for some nefarious reason.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because everyone expected you to off me, but now you’re letting me stay even though I’m not good enough to be initiated into your killer cult.”

“That is a possibility.” Ra’s is by now immune to provocation over the different insults Veronica uses to describe the League of Shadows.

“There’s another reason that may hold weight.” Bruce speaks for the first time since dinner started.

“And what is that, Detective?”

“Jealousy.”

“Of you?”

Veronica stares at Bruce. “Do you have a girlfriend I don’t know about? Or a boyfriend?”

“Not exactly.”

Ra’s is watching Bruce with an expression Veronica isn’t able to read. It’s a mix of curiosity, greed… and something else. “There are rumors you and she are in a relationship,” he says slowly.

“We’re not,” Bruce replies flatly.

“The rumors are pervasive. They have spread among Shadows beyond Nanda Parbat. It is said you share a bed.”

“We really aren’t,” Veronica says irritably. “For the record, I’m not in love with Bruce. I have unofficially adopted him as my big brother. The idea of falling in love or even in lust with him is squicky.”

“I’m sure my daughter will be relieved to hear so.”

“Your daughter?”

Ra’s nods. “Talia.”

“Huh.” Veronica gives Bruce the side-eye. “Guess things are more _complicated_ than I knew.” To Ra’s, she asks, “So you have a daughter?”

“I have two daughters still living, Talia and Nyssa.”

“Am I going to meet them?”

“Perhaps. They are not often here. And there is some controversy with regard to which of them I should name as my heir. Or even if I decide to name either of them as such.”

“Sibling rivalry?” Veronica asks. Bruce makes a “kill” gesture she doesn’t really understand.

“Of a sort. There are other issues as well.”

“That sucks. I always wanted a sister. Though I guess I got one when I met Lilly. And hopefully I’m gonna have brothers soon too. My dad’s dating my BFF’s mom.”

“That sounds… fascinating.”

“Huh. If you think about it, I guess you gave me Bruce as a big brother too.”

“I am not your brother.” This from Bruce. It is an old argument of theirs.

“It’s cute how you keep trying to convince yourself of that.”

“It is a fact.”

“And denial ain’t just a river in Egypt.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“You love me anyway.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“You certainly squabble like siblings,” Ra’s observes with no little amount of amusement.

Bruce glares at her. Veronica sticks her tongue out at him. Ra’s chuckles. Then Veronica remembers what triggered the argument in the first place. “So demon daughter Talia is jealous?”

“It is possible,” Bruce allows.

“If she’s so into you she’ll try to kill me based off a rumor, where is she?”

“My daughter is currently based in ‘Eth Alth’eban. Her relationship with Bruce did not… end amicably.”

Veronica purses her lips. “Woman scorned, huh? That’s a pretty classic reason for attempted murder. Also, poison is traditionally considered a woman’s weapon.”

Bruce shakes her head. “Talia would not follow such maidenly norms. And her skill in combat is possibly the equal of Lady Shiva’s.”

“She knows a thousand more reliable ways to kill a person without resorting to something as uncertain as poison.” Ra’s strokes his beard thoughtfully.

“If it _is_ Talia, she didn’t intend it to kill and is trying to send some sort of message,” Bruce says. “But if it is her, she may not simply be jealous of me, but of your attentions toward Veronica.”

Ra’s looks speculative. “It is possible.” He sounds much like Bruce did just a couple minutes ago.

Veronica rolls her eyes. “So boyfie issues and daddy issues mean some assassin chick has it out for me? Great.”

“This bears investigation,” Ra’s says.

“No shit,” Veronica says. “I’ll start a casefile.”

“Detective.”

“I will assist her in any manner possible.”

“Well, I guess two minds are better than one, and you do have—ahem—intimate knowledge of one of the suspects.” Veronica grins when Bruce sighs.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They do end up building a case together, and even with limited evidence, they are able to determine that the attempt of Veronica’s life is likely tied to her relationship with Ra’s and/or with Bruce. While Bruce is detailed in his brief of the League of Shadows’ power structure and major players, he is much more reticent on the subject of Talia al Ghul.

Veronica learns there’s some sort of battle to be declared Ra’s al Ghul’s heir and that Talia and her sister Nyssa are the only two of his children who remain alive and contenders for the title, but that the League and Ra’s are both traditional enough that no heir has yet been announced because they are both women.

Also, there’s some kind of long-time animosity Nyssa is rumored to hold for her father, but it’s not enough for Ra’s to completely eliminate her as a possible heir. Veronica thinks that, for a scary assassin’s guild, the League sure has a lot of soap-opera level family drama.

Shortly after Bruce had become an initiate, Ra’s had taken him on as a protégé, taking him to ‘Eth Alth’eban to begin his training. Talia began her pursuit of him in a move to solidify her position. The fact that Nyssa had recently taken a woman for a lover only made Talia all the more confident. However, Bruce had been keeping Talia at a distance, preferring instead to focus on his training.

When Veronica prods him for details, Bruce only admits that Talia seduced him, and he’d broken things off with her after that. Then he and Ra’s had returned to Nanda Parbat, leaving Talia in charge of the ‘Eth Alth’eban base. Veronica learns their arrival here was a scant two weeks before her own.

Veronica finds that she has even more on her plate once she gets back to training, and that’s beside the fact that she now has an active case to investigate.

Ra’s orders Bruce to add training in poisons to Veronica’s educational curriculum, which Bruce does by not only having her study a veritable encyclopedia of poisons, but also by ingesting poison in small doses to build up her immunity.

“Mithridatism won’t make you completely immune, and it isn’t effective with all poisons, but it will give you a better chance to get to the antidote before you succumb,” Bruce tells her when Veronica bemoans the vile concoctions he has her swallowing down.

He also deems it useful if she can identify poisons by how they taste or smell, or the initial symptoms that manifest when she is exposed to them. “It was fortunate you recognized the presence of a depressant along with the aconitum from your previous experiences.”

It is the first time anyone has given her an upside to having been raped in high school and assaulted in college, but she doesn’t think Bruce is doing it on purpose. He’s just naturally oblivious about emotional context in his interactions with the people he cares about it. Or people in general.

It is, Veronica has found, his one major blind spot, and it only adds to the mounting evidence that he thinks of her as a friend even if he won’t admit it.

These measures pay off when Veronica avoids a second attempt on her life. A few months after her attempted poisoning, some kind of gas grenade is thrown through her window in the dead of night, and she recognizes the bitter-almond smell of hydrogen cyanide. She runs out of room and shuts the door behind her, breathing huge gulps of air as she all but collapses against the wall.

In the next moment, Bruce is crouched over her, concern in his blue eyes. “Cyanide gas,” she tells him, teeth chattering as shock sets in.

His gaze is hard as he carries her to his room. It’s the first time she has been inside. It’s pretty much exactly the same as hers, except he has an array of weapons (including several swords, what the eff) mounted on one wall and a _lot_ more books than she does. Veronica doesn’t recognize all the weapons on his walls or laid out on the shelves; her own training has been focused on hand-to-hand combat and eskrima sticks.

He puts a blanket over her shoulders, pours out some water into a cup and makes her drink it. Lady Shiva comes through the door then, and she narrows her eyes when she sees Veronica’s pale, shaking form.

“We must report this to Ra’s,” is all the other woman says before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

Eventually, Veronica stops shaking, and Bruce pulls her to her feet and leads her to Ra’s’ study. “We need to find out what this is about,” she says, shock and fear giving way to anger.

He only nods. “I want to check your room,” he tells her. “Will you be all right here on your own?”

She shakes her head. “I’m coming with you.”

She won’t be deterred, so he wets two wash cloths, and folds them up, then escorts her to her bedroom door. He hands one of the cloths and tells her to put it against her mouth. Then he takes a breath, opens the door, and strides to the window and throws it open so the gas can dissipate. He goes back out into the hallway carrying something in one hand.

“We should be able to get in there in a few minutes. The grenade didn’t have enough to really fill the room with the cyanide, though it might have been enough to kill you if you’d been asleep.” He holds up the object he retrieved from her room; it’s the grenade. “This is League issue. I’ll dust it for prints, but I doubt we will find anything.”

They go back to his room, where he retrieves a kit of some sort about the size of a box of Kleenex. He opens it to reveal a row of bottles and jars. A second compartment opens to reveal gloves and array of implements. As he takes out out a canister of powder and a compact dusting brush, he looks up to see Veronica staring in avarice.

“What.”

“Is that a portable forensic kit?”

“Obviously.”

“Where did you get one so small? The smallest I’ve seen are the size of a slim briefcase.”

“I have my sources.”

“I want one.”

“Hnn.”

“I do, I really want one.”

“And I want peace on earth and a crime-free home city.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Please, Bruce? Can you get me one of those? For my birthday? Or Christmas?”

“No. And it’s a long time until Christmas.”

“Well, you know Ra’s is always talking about how time moves weirdly in Nanda Parbat. Christmas will be here in no time!”

“Hnn.”

“Does that mean yes?”

“No.”

He proceeds to ignore her wheedling and focuses on examining the gas grenade. As he anticipated, though, he finds no fingerprints, even when he goes through the trouble of taking it apart and checking its components.

Lady Shiva comes back, and Bruce leaves, taking his forensics kit with him. The female assassin quizzes Veronica on everything that happened. Bruce eventually comes back and reports that he found evidence of someone rappelling from an upper story window, eliminating the possibility that this is anything but an inside job.

Veronica thanks him for his help and for investigating and tries to go to her room to sleep, but neither he nor Shiva will hear of it. Eventually, Shiva leaves after telling Veronica and Bruce all three of them will be expected to join Ra’s for breakfast in the morning.

Bruce takes up a meditative pose on the floor and tells Veronica to take his bed, pointedly ignoring her protests. Veronica falls into a fitful sleep only to be woken by Bruce a few hours later.

As she enters the dining room reserved for Ra’s, she is astounded to find that they have been served a small feast of the kind of fare found at breakfast tables across the US. Rashers of bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, and even a tall stack of pancakes await them instead of the rice porridge and dried fish Veronica has gotten used to over the past nine months.

“You made me pancakes?” Veronica asks in awe.

“I merely asked the detective about the sort of repast you might enjoy,” Ra’s says, as if catering to the homesickness of a girl who hasn’t even been initiated is the sort of thing the head of the League of Shadows does on a regular basis. But then again, given his indulgence of her, perhaps it is. “It is little enough to instruct the kitchen to prepare his suggestions, after the poor hospitality you have enjoyed here.”

Perhaps it’s the poor night’s sleep or the fact that someone has tried to kill her yet again, but she finds herself bounding over to Ra’s to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” she says.

Bruce and Shiva are staring openly at the tiny blonde detective and the imposing Head of the Demon, whose cheeks have reddened at the impetuous gesture. “It is nothing,” Ra’s says dismissively. “Sit and eat before your breakfast goes cold.” His gaze moves to Bruce and Shiva, and Veronica’s teachers are jolted into taking their own seats as well.

“It’s not nothing,” Veronica says, happily piling food onto her plate. “My dad used to make me pancakes and bacon whenever I had a bad night.”

“Speaking of your eventful evening,” Ra’s says, obviously uncomfortable, “perhaps the detective would like to report on his findings.”

Bruce delivers a detailed yet succinct report. Ra’s agrees that the attempts cannot have originated beyond the League. However, Bruce adds one startling observation: “The incompetence of these attacks is atypical to the Shadows, even initiates. It is possible the intention is not to kill Veronica but instead serve as a warning volley.”

Ra’s frowns. “A warning to whom?”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Do you still suspect Talia?”

“It would be foolish to eliminate her without proof or even questioning.”

“It is fortunate, then, that she will be here in a week.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Bruce and Shiva intensify Veronica’s training after that, although what skills they hope she’ll learn in a week’s time in order to defeat an assassin raised by Ra’s, she doesn’t know. They also do not leave her alone. Shiva even helps with Veronica’s language drills.

Bruce starts teaching Veronica how to throw shuriken and kunai, combining their discourses on tactics with their lessons so that at the end of the day, Veronica feels like her arms are about to fall off and her brain has been pounded into mush.

Both her trainers also start working on Veronica’s situational awareness skills. Any time they walk into a new room, Veronica is instructed to close her eyes and describe every person in it and provide a threat assessment. She is made to name every object that can be conveniently used as a weapon should she need one, ranking each by efficacy and proximity.

By the end of the week, they have made a game of ambushing her. She fights her way through sneak attacks in training rooms and shadowy corridors. They even attack her in her sleep a time or two, only to lecture her on her reaction times and tactics.

Veronica grows surlier with every day that passes. Ra’s is only amused when she threatens to simply offer Talia a knife and present her with her throat to get things over with. Bruce and Shiva, however, are patently _not_ amused by her complaints.

Then the day comes when they are joined at dinner by none other than Talia al Ghul, the Demon’s Daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the notion that, with regard to Veronica's interactions with Ra's, there would likely be some point where she starts to suffer a kind of Stockholm syndrome. With mysterious, if ineffective, two assassination attempts thus far, I'm figuring now's as good as time as any.


	11. Green-Eyed Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica realizes Bruce is as unlucky in relationships as she is. Possibly worse. On the plus side, she learns about the nature of his genius (hint: it’s as much curse as blessing).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: There are mentions of rape (for both protagonists) in this chapter. Nothing graphic, but please proceed with caution.

“Ah, Detective, Veronica,” Ra’s says amiably as he joins them at the supper table, flanked by Ubu and a strange woman. “My daughter has come for a visit. Bruce, you know Talia. Veronica, this is my youngest daughter, Talia. Talia, Veronica Mars, who has been our guest since the beginning of the year.”

“Yes, I had heard you had taken in a stray kitten, Father,” the woman says. Her voice is low and smooth as silk.

Veronica isn’t sure what she was expecting of the daughter of the Head of the Demon, but it certainly wasn’t the woman who moves to stand before her and Bruce.

Talia al Ghul is something out of a movie or a comic book. She is very obviously as deadly as she is beautiful. Her almond-shaped eyes are coolly dismissive, the vivid green orbs striking against her olive complexion. Hair the color of cocoa hangs straight and true down her back. Her outfit is skin tight, the zipper at the front pulled low to show off an impressive cleavage.

The only thing unattractive about this woman is her mouth, and that’s because her bow-shaped lips are twisted into a sneer as she looks Veronica up and down.

“Funny, but I distinctly remember your instructing me in the necessity of drowning the cats that make their way here.”

She turns to Bruce next. “And you, beloved? Have you also adopted my father’s so-called kitten?”

“I have undertaken the task of instructing her.” Bruce’s voice reveals nothing. Veronica wishes she were in front of him instead of beside him so she could see his face.

“And pray tell, what do you _instruct_ her in, beloved?”

“Martial arts, language, tactics, strategy.”

“And the bedroom arts?”

“No.”

“No, you do not instruct her? Or no, she does not share your bed?”

“The latter.”

“Why is that?” Talia steps closer to Veronica, who can sense that it isn’t only the inches Talia has on her that are the reason she seems to be looking down her nose at the blonde detective. “Although she is not unattractive, you were ever insatiable between the bedsheets, beloved, and I have been absent these many months. I well remember your libido.”

“That makes one of us,” Bruce growls.

Veronica turns to gape at him. His jaw is set, clenched, and his hands are curled into fists. She stares at her friend and mentor, the man she has named her brother, as the meaning of his words unfurls, sharp and ugly, in her mind. “She—”

“ _Not now, Veronica_.” Even when he was most irritated at being saddled with her training, Bruce has never barked out her name with such harshness. Veronica stays silent for once.

“My father named her his kitten, but it seems you have discovered she is an obedient lapdog instead, beloved.” Talia lets out a laugh that seems wrapped in smoke and silk, seductive and mocking all at once. “I suppose no one so timid could hope to hold your attention.”

“Enough,” Ra’s says. “Let us all sit and at least pretend to be civil while dinner is being served.”

All of them are quick to comply. The servants nervously bring out the first course, and Veronica watches as father and daughter engage in a strange kind of well-mannered warfare over the course of the next hour and a half.

Ra’s asks Talia to report on the goings on of the Shadows’ other base in the Arabian peninsula, ‘Eth Alth’eban, as well as other cells across the world. When Talia looks pointedly at Veronica, Ra’s merely tells her that Veronica has been present for similar discussions in the past. Talia launches into a report in rapid-fire Arabic, but upon realizing Veronica can understand her, she switches to another language, which Bruce murmurs is Pashto.

Unconcerned, Veronica focuses on finishing her food. Finally, Talia winds down.

“Veronica, you have been unusually silent this evening,” Ra’s says gently. “Is there something on your mind?”

She sees the flash of rage in Talia’s face at the old man’s words. She licks her lips. Meeting the other woman’s gaze, she asks bluntly, “Did you try to kill me?”

Talia laughs. “Ah, so the little kitten has claws after all.” Smile sharp and full of teeth, she says, “If I had tried to kill you, you would be dead.”

“So the poisoning, the cyanide gas—what was that?”

“Merely a test. Neither my father nor my beloved are known for indulging the defenseless, yet here you are. First, he decides against killing you. Then he decides to have two of his most skilled proteges train you so you can acquire a basic education. I have heard that you have enchanted them, yet despite Ubu’s reassurances that you have no magic, I can see no other explanation for their continued protection.”

Suddenly, Veronica has had enough. “I didn’t cast a spell on anyone,” she says exasperatedly. “I mean, jeez, lady, I know we’re in a castle, but it’s not Hogwarts even though you and most of the other people here would make pretty good dementors and your dad occasionally likes to pretend he’s Voldemort. You didn’t have to freaking drug and poison me just ‘cause you’ve been too busy doing whatever to come back for daddy-daughter dates.”

“Daddy-daughter dates?” Talia is visibly dumbfounded, but Veronica’s rage has bubbled over, and she pushes on, outright yelling by now.

“I mean, obviously you guys need more family bonding time if your dad needs to trot me out anytime he wants a laugh or whatever. And Bruce? Do I take your what you and he said earlier to mean that you seduced the guy without your consent, but are going around calling him your beloved? I’m sorry, but where I come from, that’s called _rape_ and the fact that you did that to my friend—”

“I thought I was your brother,” Bruce mutters, but the tension has somehow drained out of him. He seems almost… amused.

“Shut up. She doesn’t get to treat you like that and get away with it. Nobody should treat _anyone_ like that and get away with it. And here you all are, just sitting here like it’s any given Wednesday—”

“It’s actually Monday.” Yep, Bruce is definitely amused.

“Ugh! Stop talking and go back to grunting, you emotionally stunted asswipe. I’m trying to defend your freaking honor against the evil Lara Croft chick who needs to learn the meaning of the word no!”

Slowly it begins to register that Ra’s has thrown his head back and is full-out laughing at her outburst, that Bruce is smirking at her, and that Talia is staring in baffled bemusement.

“I believe you can see for yourself that this particular kitten does indeed have claws, my daughter,” Ra’s finally says once he regains his composure. “Although I can assure you, I am thrall to no enchantments, hers or anyone else’s.”

“I—yes, father.” The woman seems strangely subdued.

“However, perhaps she is correct in that you and I have not seen one another in far too long. Although I hope you shall refrain from making any more attempts to dispose of or disable your beloved’s protégé from now on.”

“I live to fulfill your every command, my father.”

“Good, good. Perhaps I shall enjoy a sojourn in ‘Eth Alth’eban. Winter in Tibet does tend to get somewhat inconvenient.”

“The League of Shadows enjoys your guidance regardless of your base of operations, father.”

“Of course.” Ra’s dismisses the deferential comment with a wave. Of Veronica, he asks, “Tell me, my dear, do you think you would enjoy a change of scenery?”

Veronica narrows her eyes at him. It is obvious he is baiting his daughter for some reason, and equally obvious that his daughter has risen to it from the woman’s flashing eyes and clenched jaw. Her gaze flicks toward Bruce, whose face is as inscrutable as always, although something tells Veronica he is warning her to choose her words carefully.

“I think I would like to get trained so I can take my oath and go home,” she says, injecting resignation in her voice. “All of this—” she waves toward the room around them, to Ra’s himself “—seems kind of fantastical for a college dropout born and raised in Neptune, California.”

“I do not see the relevance of your birthplace in these matters.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “You’ve got this whole world-domination-via-secret-society-of-ninja-assassins schtick going on, complete with an heir to your empire. Bruce here is as good a big brother figure as I’ll ever want or have, but his life story is something out of a fairy tale, the lost Prince of Gotham. Me? I mostly make a living taking pictures of cheating spouses. And I kinda get that I’m the obligatory comedic element in this epic spy thriller, but really I just wanna get home.”

“You underestimate yourself, _quth saghiruh_.” Ra’s is smiling, but the twinkle has gone from his eyes. Those eyes are hard as flint, for all they’re as green as his daughter’s—in fact, there’s almost a kind of otherworldly glint to them that Veronica’s never noticed before and that leaves her feeling chilled.

Veronica ponders how to respond to that. Still, Bruce has been diligent in reminding her that it’s her outrageous honesty that keeps her in the Demon Head’s good graces. So she goes with the truth. She smiles sadly. “We both know that, as far as you and everyone else is concerned, I’m the stray pet you keep around for entertainment value. Just like Talia here said. I don’t really get it, but I’m glad to be alive, and I’ll do what you tell me, go where you send me… whatever it takes. So if you want me to go to ‘Eth Alth’eban, then that’s where I’ll go.”

Ra’s looks at her contemplatively. Talia stares at her in much the same way. Bruce focuses on finishing the rest of his food. Somehow, this action comforts Veronica just as much as a smile or a nod of encouragement would.

Finally, Ra’s speaks. “We depart in two weeks’ time. Bruce is my protégé, and Lady Shiva is part of my regular guard, and since you are _their_ protégé in turn, you must accompany us.”

“I will need to depart in a few days to ready the family quarters if you plan to return, father.” There’s something in Talia’s voice that Veronica doesn’t understand. It’s like she’s speaking in code. From the way Bruce is surreptitiously watching the other woman, she can tell he’s trying to figure it out too.

“Then it is settled, and we can now enjoy our dessert. I imagine you would prefer to retire early after a day spent traveling, my daughter.”

“That would be ideal, father.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Ra’s forgoes their usual after-dinner chess game and reporting, so Veronica and Bruce return to their rooms. Veronica is surprised to see her window has been repaired and her room looks as it always does. She is updating the casefile with the information about Talia when there is a knock at her door. She opens it to see Bruce on the other side.

“May I come in?”

She steps aside, gestures him toward her chair while she sits on the bed. “I was just updating the casefile,” she murmurs. “Since Talia admitted she was guilty.”

“Hnn.” He looks toward her computer. “May I?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “Go ahead. I was going to give you a copy tomorrow anyway.”

He skims the file, then closes her laptop. “You write excellent reports.”

She offers him a lopsided smile. “My dad was the sheriff and I was always a daddy’s girl. I’ve been reading reports since I was in grade school. I’ve been writing them since I was sixteen, helping out at Mars Investigations.”

She’s talked to him about her cases; he lets her chatter at him during mealtimes as long as she does it in whatever language she’s supposed to be learning at the time. So she knows his pensive look isn’t because she’s told him anything new. “You didn’t include anything about Talia and me in your report.”

She frowns. “That’s not true. I listed your former relationship as a contributing factor to her suspected motives of jealousy and paranoia. We’ve already discussed this before.”

He makes a slashing motion with his hand. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Oh. “What you’re talking about…” She stops, licks her lips nervously, then meets his gaze. It’s steady, if just a little apprehensive. “It’s nobody’s business but yours.”

He lets out a breath. She sees his relief, and for a moment, almost decides to leave it at that. He probably would want her to. But she’s committed herself to being his friend, and from what she knows of his history, she’s not sure he’s ever allowed himself to have one since the night his parents died. One who isn’t Alfred, anyway.

So she takes a leap of faith. Or perhaps it’s more trust than faith. But with the same steady, apprehensive gaze he gave her just moments ago, she starts to speak. “When I was fifteen, my best friend Lilly was murdered, and my father, the sheriff, was accused of botching the investigation. Overnight, my friends became my tormentors, and my mother stopped trying to hide her alcoholism.”

He watches her with wary eyes. She can see he knows some of the story—she’s told him about it herself—but he isn’t sure where she is going with this. “I didn’t want to admit my whole world came crashing down around me. So I crashed a party, even though no one wanted me there. Someone passed me a drink I later found out was laced with Liquid X, and I don’t really remember what happens between then and the moment I woke up the next day and had to search for my underwear.”

“Veronica—” He starts to protest, but there’s something he sees in her face, and he subsides.

“My junior year of high school, I wasn’t just investigating my best friend’s murder. I was also investigating my rape.” He freezes, goes absolutely still and rigid, and somehow that makes her relax her own defensive stiffness. “I found out, of course. One of the guys I grew up with, one of my former friends, dumped me in a guest room and goaded his nerdy little brother into having sex with me while I was passed out. Ca—Beaver chickened out and left me alone.

“That’s when Lilly’s brother, my ex-boyfriend, found me. He had been dosed too, although not to the extent that I was, and he told me he thought what we’d done was consensual, that I’d woken up and told him I’d missed him. Then he told me he’d left immediately after because he was disgusted by the fact that he had had sex with a girl his mother had told him was his illegitimate half-sister.”

Bruce sucks in a breath. “That’s—”

Veronica gives him a lopsided smile. “Not true. My dad and I got DNA tests that proved I’m a Mars. Anyway. I thought that was that. I even told myself it wasn’t rape because he hadn’t known what he was doing. That it didn’t matter that it still felt like rape because I don’t remember consenting.

“Then I found out later that he wasn’t the only one who had sex with me that night. Beaver came back, saw someone had beat him to my virginity, and decided to have his turn with me. Then he slunk away, and he left me with a little present—chlamydia.”

Bruce opens his mouth. Closes it.

“Yeah. I know, right? I didn’t find out about it until my senior year, and I took the antibiotics so I’m clean now, but I could face issues later in life. Then everyone found out about it because it was one of the things used to discredit me during Aaron Echolls’ trial for Lilly’s murder and my attempted murder.”

“Why are you telling me this.”

“Because you probably didn’t fully believe it when I told you it was nobody’s business but yours. I won’t tell anyone what I learned tonight. And also because I understand not wanting anyone to know. But I did eventually tell my best friend and my boyfriend what happened to me. So if you ever need to talk about it, I want you to know I will listen and that I understand.”

Bruce stares at her. For several minutes, their eyes are locked, blue on blue, and the room is silent but for their breathing. Finally, he says hoarsely, “I did believe it. I do.”

She nods. “Good.”

They fall silent again for a moment. “Before I left Gotham, I was used to girls chasing after me,” he finally says, his voice slow, words measured. “But none of them were anything like Talia al Ghul.”

Veronica offers him a humorless smile. “I think it’s safe to say there aren’t a lot of women like Talia al Ghul in the world,” she says wryly. “Thank god.”

He barks out a laugh, then scrubs his face with his hand. “Yeah. Thank god. Anyway, she came after me, hard. At first I was flattered. Her father is my mentor, and she’s probably one of the League of Shadows’ top agents. And she’s… well, you’ve seen her.”

“Yeah.” And Veronica has. Talia al Ghul is one of the most physically stunning women she’s ever met. Not conventionally beautiful, perhaps, but her features, her aura, are arresting. She’s probably in her late twenties or early thirties, but there’s an almost ageless quality about her that could skew Veronica’s estimate older or younger by five years or so.

“But something seemed… off. I mean, she could have anyone. She doesn’t need me. And I always knew I would go back to Gotham, while she is 100 percent dedicated to the Shadows, so it wasn’t like we would ever have anything long-term. I wasn’t willing to jeopardize my relationship with Ra’s over a short-term liaison, so I started backing off.

“She seemed to understand. We took to just talking about League matters, about my training, her experiences. We met over dinner when Ra’s was busy with other things or was away seeing to business. Then one night I started feeling off. I remember her kissing me, leading me to bed. I could tell something was wrong, but every time I tried to say something, I would get distracted somehow. She plied me with more of her drugs over the next five days.”

Veronica is horrified. Her knees are drawn up against her chest, and she hugs them as if she can give herself—give him—comfort if she holds tightly enough.

He stares not at her, but at the wall behind her. “I have hyperthymestic syndrome. Do you know what that means?”

“It’s kind of like, beyond eidetic, right?” One of the agents she interned for at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit is a genius with an eidetic memory.

“Yeah. They call it superior autobiographical memory. Basically, anything I experience, I’ll remember. Those drills Shiva and I have you doing, when you enter a room, shut your eyes, and tell us everyone and everything in it? I’ve always been able to do that.”

“That’s…” Awesome. Also terrible.

“Yeah. So the moment I was lucid I knew what had happened. My memories of those days are disjointed and incomplete, but I still have them. I’m pretty sure she knew I would, and that’s why she did things that way. So I would know how thoroughly I was under her power, and for how long.”

He pauses. “When you were poisoned, when you said it was GHB. I was almost certain it had to be her because I couldn’t think of any other reason to add that to the aconitum.”

“She wanted you to know.” Veronica is numb. She’s had nightmares after her poisoning, flashbacks to that night, that party, five years ago.

“I am sorry.”

“No.”

His gaze snaps to hers, then skitters away, but his body language speaks of resignation and regret, so he must have misunderstood the reason for the harshness in her voice. Veronica doesn’t even realize she has gotten to her feet until she is standing in front of him.

“No,” she says again. “You cannot be sorry. It’s nobody’s fault but hers.” Slowly, carefully, she raises her hands. He stiffens, but doesn’t flinch away when she puts them on either side of his face so he is forced to look into hers.

“She would not have--”

“It doesn’t matter that she wanted to send you a message. You might be her excuse, but the fault is absolutely 100 percent hers. Understand?” When he says nothing, she glares at him with all the ferocity he’s ever used on her. “Tell me you understand.”

It takes a moment, but he finally says, “I understand.”

She stares at him a moment longer, then nods and drops her hands. “May I—” She stops, unsure of herself.

“What?”

“May I hug you?”

He looks blank for a moment, then a little lost. “I—is this a sister thing?”

She huffs out a laugh. Smiles wide. “Absolutely.”

Still a little bewildered, he says, “I—yes. Okay.”

So she leans forward and puts her arms around him. Rests her chin on his shoulder and just holds. After a moment, his arms come around her and he is hugging her back.

Later, they end up sitting on her bed, watching a movie on her laptop. Veronica is appalled when she learns he has never seen _The Big Lebowski_ , and they watch it in companionable silence, though he casts amused looks her way when she recites all of The Dude’s lines along with the movie.

When the movie ends, Veronica shuts her laptop and walks him to her door. He smirks when she groans after he tells her he’ll be back at five in the morning for her training. But he bends down and kisses her cheek before he heads back to his room, and she is smiling when she shuts and bolts the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of trivia. Hyperthymestic syndrome is, according to Wikipedia, "a condition which leads people to be able to remember an abnormally large number of their life experiences in vivid detail.... Individuals with hyperthymesia can recall much of their lives in near perfect detail, as well as public events that hold some personal significance to them."
> 
> I got the idea from a TV show called Unforgettable, whose main character, Carrie Wells, had hyperthymesia. Bit of a cheat to an already over-powered protagonist, I know, but I've got reason for it later in the series. Also, because a discussion on memories with a friend recently had me thinking about how and why a person would actually WANT to forget things, or at least remember things less than vividly. Made me wonder what Bruce Wayne's memories/nightmares would be like if he had the condition. He's had a hard life, and bad things are going to continue to happen to him—this entire fic is basically exposition into his origin story, after all.


	12. Conspiracies Abound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic (and platonic) friendship of Bruce Wayne and Veronica Mars kicks into high gear. Also, a conspiracy is discovered, because really what’s a secret organization of ninja-type assassins without a conspiracy?

In later years, Veronica will always think of that night as the point when she and Bruce Wayne truly became friends. Bruce will tell her later that she was his friend long before that, but that he became hers on that evening. She will dismiss this as evidence of what she calls his inner marshmallow, which he vehemently denies having.

Whatever the case, they end up spending their evenings together as a matter of habit. This is true even when they fly out to ‘Eth Alth’eban—where Veronica is delighted to find her room has power outlets and her bathroom indoor plumbing. She has never been so grateful for such basic modern conveniences.

Strangely enough, they see very little of Talia in the months that follow. And as if their relocation marks a turning point, Veronica’s progress in her training improves at a much more rapid pace than before. She gets better at throwing projectiles and defending against knives, with or without eskrima sticks.

Bruce teaches her memory enhancement techniques, such as how to build her memory palace, which greatly speeds up her studies of language, tactics, and strategy. Where she never used to beat him at chess, she now has a one-in-ten chance of winning a game with him. The very first time she takes his king, she breaks out into a cheer worthy of her pep squad days, much to the amusement of both Ra’s and Bruce.

Their location also helps Veronica build her vocabulary in Arabic and Farsi, which Bruce sets her to learning once he deems her competency in Japanese passable. She’s a bit irritated by how many languages he’s speeding her though, but he reminds her that she cannot hope to survive if she doesn’t understand the languages being spoken around her.

For practice and to test her skills at undetected observation at the same time, he sets her to listening in on and translating conversations in the mess hall during mealtimes.

Ra’s occasionally makes recommendations as to Veronica’s training curriculum. Bruce accommodates nearly all of these. At one point, he even teaches her the basics of bomb making (and therefore diffusion and IED disposal). She realizes a knowledge of explosive devices probably would’ve sped up her investigation into the bus crash that claimed so many of her classmates’ lives back in her senior year of high school.

The one thing Bruce is adamantly against is firearms training. Veronica isn’t as opposed as he is, but neither is she keen to pick up a gun.

Ra’s compromises by having her learn archery instead, offering up his elder daughter, Nyssa, as an instructor. Veronica is concerned at first, as her admittedly rare dealings with Talia have been veritable cold wars on both ends, but she finds she can respect Nyssa’s more straightforward manner.

She also finds herself liking Nyssa’s protégé and lover, Ta-er al-Usfar, who turns out to be another American close to her own age. Sara—as Ta-er al-Usfar shares her old name with her and invites her to use it—teases Veronica mercilessly about her status as Ra’s al Ghul’s pet. Even Nyssa unwinds enough to start calling Veronica “catling.”

Like Veronica, Sara didn’t qualify as an initiate when she first comes to the League after Nyssa saved her life, but Nyssa has undertaken her training personally in much the same way Bruce has Veronica’s. They often join her training sessions with Lady Shiva, especially since it benefits both Veronica and Sara to spar against partners with less training than their respective mentors.

Bruce is restrained with the two women, although he occasionally observes Veronica’s progress with the bow and arrow.

Funnily enough, Nyssa is as suspicious of Bruce as he is of her. She cautions Veronica about his closeness with her father. Veronica in turn is curious as to why Nyssa would warn her about trusting someone close to Ra’s al Ghul, but Nyssa’s answers are vague, and all Sara will say is that the Head of the Demon and his daughter often do not see eye to eye when it comes to the League’s goals and methods.

Veronica wants to know what those differences are, but before she can keep digging, the two women leave.

Veronica and Bruce continue to meet almost nightly. When they run out of movies and TV shows to watch on their respective laptops (Bruce introduces Veronica to an old cartoon series called _The Grey Ghost_ , which Veronica thinks is a little cheesy but still intriguing), they amuse themselves and each other by talking about books, music, and, because it’s Bruce, Gotham.

He tells her about his Mission, his plans to alleviate poverty and scare the bejesus out of the criminals as a vigilante, beginning with the Mob. He tells her a little of how he plans to do it.

“You want to do the ninja thing around Gotham while dressed up as a giant bat.” Veronica isn’t sure if he has suddenly discovered a sense of humor he has hitherto never displayed.

But he is perfectly serious, it seems, because he just nods gravely. “I have made a study of the League and its methods. No one manipulates fear and secrecy like the League of Shadows. It is only partially due to their skills. They also manipulate the legend that surrounds them.”

“So you’re going to make yourself into some kind of Gotham-exclusive urban legend.” Veronica nods. “Okay, I guess that can work. Why bats, though?”

“As a child I was deathly afraid of bats.”

“You were?”

“When I was six, I fell into an abandoned well where I was attacked—or so I believed at the time—by a colony of bats that had been nesting in the underlying cavern.”

“Well, I guess it’ll work with Gotham’s ambiance, at least.” When he arches an eyebrow at her, she rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on. The gargoyles? The gothic architecture? The gloomy weather? You’ll be something out of a paranormal romance novel. Especially if your costume is skimpy. Or has poet sleeves.”

“No.”

“Killjoy.” She just smiles when he glares at her. “Anyway, the Bat suits your brooding nature. And it’s much better than the Blur.”

“The what.”

“It’s something Alfred and I were talking about before I got snatched. In the past year or so, there have been reports out of Metropolis of some do-gooder they’ve been calling the Blur, or the Red-Blue Blur, because he moves so fast that’s all the cameras can capture. Mostly does stuff like rescue people from fires, but he also stops the occasional robbery or assault.”

“Magic?”

“Possibly. I’m not really sure. I wonder if he’s even still around at this point, so not sure it matters.”

“Could be a power object. I understand from Ra’s there is a Green Lantern patrolling our space sector who appears to be human.”

“What’s a Green Lantern?”

“Space cop. HQ on some planet lightyears away. They create constructs with their powers, similar to how a magician can create illusions, only these can deal damage.”

“Huh. It’s a brave new world, I guess.”

“Hnn.”

“I am so going to want to see your Bat costume as soon as you make it.”

One evening, Veronica asks him, “When do you think I’ll be ready to become an initiate?”

He sighs. “The truth? I think you’re ready to qualify as an initiate now. So does Shiva. But Ra’s doesn’t agree, and it’s his opinion that matters here.”

Veronica jumps off his lap and begins pacing the room. “He wants something, doesn’t he? He’s got an agenda.”

“Men like Ra’s al Ghul always have agendas,” Bruce says. “Hell, I have an agenda.”

Veronica nods. He has told her about what he calls his Mission, and his vision for cleaning up Gotham. As it turns out, he has thought long and hard about her words to him back when she was first brought to Nanda Parbat.

“You’re right in that Gotham needs a savior and a protector,” he ends up telling her one night. “It needs symbols to rally behind, one to inspire and one to incite fear in those who would see my city suffer.”

“So what agenda does Ra’s have for me? For us?” Veronica asks now. “And I’m pretty sure it involves both of us because he basically _gave_ me to you and coerced you into feeling responsible for me.”

“Hnn.”

“What?”

“He pointed it out when we first met. We’re both detectives. And he assigned both of us to look into your attempted murder rather than going through the normal channels of investigation within the League.”

“So he wants us to solve a case for him?”

“It’s possible.”

“Why go through the trouble, though? I mean, I’m sure he has people who can look into stuff for him.”

“Consider why a man in Ra’s al Ghul’s position might recruit two American investigators into his ranks.”

“It’s internal. And not just internal the way Talia messing with me is internal. You think he thinks someone’s going to try to derail whatever he’s planning.”

“Or compromise his position within the League.”

“You think that could be it?”

“It would explain a great deal. Since your arrival in Nanda Parbat, I have had cause to formulate several theories as to why he chose to keep you.”

“I thought he was amused and decided to ‘adopt’ the stray who didn’t know it’s not a good idea to mouth off to the Demon?”

“Yes, but also he had been tracking you since you began to investigate my disappearance.”

“What are you saying?”

A sigh. “I’m saying that a man like Ra’s al Ghul always keeps several balls in the air. I suspect he has had a hand in the situation in Gotham, so it is likely he would like to control the circumstances surrounding my return.”

“Which would include prodding someone like Jake Kane to hire someone to look for you,” Veronica concludes.

“Hnn. Jake was not the only one. Earle hired several investigators as well. They either failed to find anything or found early graves when they followed the wrong leads.” There is regret in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” Veronica stops pacing to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. I only learned of it shortly before your arrival. By then, there was nothing to be done. When I was told of your progress, I feared you would become another victim.”

“Yet here I am.”

“And we must understand why. He plays with us as sure as he does the rest of the League. He has played his daughters against each other for decades.”

“Okay, so back to our idea that he’s worried someone wants to mess with him from inside the League. Do you think that’s why we’re here? We’re still outsiders, and neither of us was ever a normal initiate. You started as his protégé the moment you arrived—he _recruited_ you personally. And I was his ‘pet.’ He made me untouchable, and he gave me to you.”

“Hnn.”

“And the main thing we have in common that’s different from the other initiates is that we’re both investigators.”

“When we speculated about Talia’s involvement in the attempts on your life, he said, ‘It would take more than this manner of childish manipulation to oust me from my position.’”

“There’s that hyperthymesia at work,” Veronica teases. “What’s your point?”

“He was right in that Talia’s ploy was childish. It is unlike her to be so clumsy or so reactionary. Both Ra’s and Talia play the long game.”

“You think he put her up to it?”

“Perhaps.”

“It would make sense though.” Veronica continues pacing. “Talia confessed right away. And if she has as much disgust for me as she seems to, there would’ve been no reason for her to stop trying to get rid of me.”

“Our relocation is suspect as well.”

“Yeah. He said he did it to spend more time with Talia, but as soon as we got here, she pretty much left. Nyssa’s been around more than Talia has.”

“Nyssa also left after you began asking questions.”

“Do you think it’s about the succession? I know it’s down to either Nyssa or Talia.”

Bruce shakes his head. “That’s what most believe. But Nyssa and her father are divided in philosophy, while Talia is notoriously devoted to Ra’s al Ghul.”

A thought occurs to Veronica, and she abruptly stops pacing. “How long have you suspected this is what’s happening?”

He regards her steadily. “Since your arrival in Nanda Parbat. I eliminated all other possible scenarios as highly unlikely the night you met Talia.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yes.”

“You should’ve told me before this.”

“Perhaps.”

“So what is the game plan?”

A pause. “You will not like it.”

“After a year here, I’m pretty damn used to doing things I don’t like.”

“You will need to convince Ra’s al Ghul to make you an initiate.”

“I thought you said he was stalling.”

“Yes. You will need to convince him you wish to stay after you have taken the oath.”

“No problem.”

“In order for you to convince him, it must be true.”

Veronica stares. “WHAT? You _know_ I need to get back to my dad.” And Logan. And Wallace and Mac and Lilly, but mostly her dad and Logan.

“Remember when I mentioned leaving the League after initiation was a bit more complicated than you were led to believe.”

She frowns. “Yeah, I guess. I thought you were referring to Talia and her fixation with you.”

“There are two ways an initiate leaves: with the blessing of Ra’s al Ghul, or without it.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Initiates earn their chance to join the League of Shadows one of two ways. The first is to be sponsored, as Sara has been, as you will be. The second is to earn your place by eliminating an initiate who has left without the Demon’s blessing or who has failed in the mission that proves himself worthy of becoming a Shadow.”

“So you’re saying, if I leave before Ra’s wants to let me go, I’ll end up looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”

“Essentially.”

“This sucks.”

“It does.”

“So you need me to take the oath and then stay, then help you solve this mystery that Ra’s doesn’t want to tell us about but wants us to solve anyway.”

“Yes, and we must do it within a year’s time, perhaps less.”

“Why the deadline?”

He hesitates. “I need Ra’s al Ghul’s blessing to leave before I am assigned my first mission as a Shadow.”

“Why?”

“Because I will fail it.”

“You don’t know that. You’re like the best initiate the League has. I seriously don’t even know why you’re not already a Shadow.”

He sighs. “I have always known I would fail.”

Veronica waits. When no explanation is forthcoming, she crosses her arms and taps her foot. “This is the portion of the program when you explain that last sentence to your loyal and angry friend.”

“I have never heard of a Shadow’s first mission that did not involve an execution. It is a way for Shadows to show their commitment to the League’s cause. I made a vow to never kill. I will not break it, even for my freedom.”

“So you need Ra’s’ blessing too.”

“Yes.”

“Shit.”

“Yes.”

“So what do you think I should tell him to convince him I want to stay? He won’t believe a sudden change of heart about my wanting to go home.”

“No.”

“So?”

“You should use me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t want to return without me because it will mean you have spent all this time with the League and accomplished nothing. You want to be able to claim the Bruce Wayne Bounty, and that means bringing me back with you. That is the reason you will give. The reason you will not give and yet still make evident is your ridiculous notion that I am the brother of your heart.”

Veronica is indignant. “That’s—” She pauses. “You know, that might actually work.”

“I know.”

She punches his arm. “You’re such an asshole.”

“I know.”

“We’ll get out of here together.”

“I know.”

“And like it or not, I’ve decided to adopt you as my brother.”

“I know.”

“It’s not a ridiculous notion.”

“Hnn.”

“Hey, Bruce?”

“What.”

“Thanks.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It is almost embarrassing, how easily Ra’s believes Veronica. Two weeks after she and Bruce come up with their plan, Veronica becomes an initiate.

Over the next few months, she joins other initiates for training in martial arts and tactics, where she learns everything from guerilla and urban warfare methods to using shadows and diversions for stealthy movement. At one point, she is even instructed on how to fly one of the League’s jets. She feels a little guilty about how much fun she has doing that.

She still gets one-on-one time with Lady Shiva, but she suspects this is more out of friendship than requirement. Too, the female assassin has begun accepting more and more jobs away from the League.

Bruce still acts as her language and strategy master, and of course he continues to visit with her after dinner. Together, they work on the case or they hammer out the details of managing Bruce’s mission.

Bruce, for example, already knows he will need a secret identity, but it is Veronica who suggests he choose a façade in his civilian life that will discourage people from looking beyond the surface. She also points out holes in the measures he dreamed up to cover his tracks. It becomes almost a game with them, thinking of all the possible scenarios that might arise, then cooking up contingency plans.

Then one night after sharing supper with Bruce and Ra’s and being trounced at chess by Bruce, Ra’s says, “Detective, I would like a moment of your time before you retire for the evening.”

Veronica shrugs and makes her way to her room. The next morning, Bruce comes through the door, then proceeds to pace in front of her. “There’s been a change of plan,” he says eventually.

“What do you mean?”

“Ra’s thinks I will be ready for my first mission in the next couple of weeks. I need to move up our timetable.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Solve the case.”

“We don’t even know what the case is, not really.”

“I know. Ideas?”

“You won’t like it.”

“We go to Ra’s. Lay our cards out. Tell him we’ll help him, but we need to know what we’re looking for.”

“No.”

“Yes. You’re the genius here. Calculate the odds of us getting out free and clear with any of our other options. Then tell me if you have anything that gives us better chances.”

Silence.

Veronica nods. “We speak to him tomorrow night after dinner.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

As it turns out, it is Ra’s who speaks first, but only after Bruce and Veronica barely survive an ambush by two dozen Shadows the next morning. As is customary, they meet at dawn for warmups and a sparring session in one of the smaller training rooms. Veronica has just leapt away from Bruce’s sidekick when it seems two of the walls collapse, and a swarm of assassins is on them.

Not sure if this is a test or a real attack, Veronica nevertheless launches into motion. She takes a moment to check on Bruce, they have instinctively moved toward each other so that, while not pressed back to back, they nevertheless are guarding each other’s blind spots.

In the movies, when a group of thugs attacks the heroes, the assailants usually make their moves one or two at a time. These attackers are not so considerate; both American initiates find themselves fending off a constant barrage of fists and feet and blades. Veronica manages to incapacitate four attackers before she takes her first hit, a vicious slice that opens up about six inches of her forearm. She curses as she feels the burn, disarms her attacker, kicks him in the groin, and jabs an elbow into his face to knock him out.

“Veronica.”

“I’m fine,” she calls out, already executing a turning kick to the gut of another opponent.

Bruce has gone through about twice as many attackers when he takes a hit. He snatches a kunai from the air and sends it flying back in the direction of the thrower. As he turns, he sees one of the attackers move on Veronica’s exposed side with a katana as she staggers back from a blow to the head and is momentarily dazed.

In the next instant, he steps in between them and takes a slash to the back from shoulder to waist. He lets out a hiss as he turns, disarms the swordsman, and renders him unconscious.

“Bruce!”

“It’s fine,” he growls, already flanking her and facing on another assassin.

Just then, Lady Shiva joins the fray, and they make quick work of the remaining attackers. Then Ra’s is coming through the door, a scimitar in hand and a contingent of Shadows at the ready.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ra’s’ voice thunders through the suddenly silent room.

Bruce glares at him. “You tell us.”

Emerald eyes flash deadly promise as Ra’s regards the two Americans. “Who dares attack my protégé and an initiate under my protection in the heart of ‘Eth Alth’eban?” the Head of the Demon demands in Arabic.

Most of the assassins have been knocked out, but a few are regaining consciousness and are easily bound by the Shadows who accompanied Ra’s into the room. A barked order from Ra’s, and the assassins’ head coverings are removed. Veronica is surprised to recognize Shadows based here and out of Nanda Parbat.

“Detain them for questioning,” Ra’s says harshly before turning to Veronica and Bruce once more. “Kitten, Detective. Are you injured?”

“Bruce is going to need his back stitched up,” Veronica says shortly. “And I’m pretty sure a few of his ribs are bruised, if not outright broken.”

Her battle-brother glares at her and takes his revenge. “Veronica will need stitches on her forearm. She took a knife to the shoulder, and will need to be checked for a concussion.”

Lady Shiva sounds amused as she offers to take them to the infirmary. Ra’s grants permission, then tells them to meet him in his study after their wounds have been seen to. Once he quits the room, his guards escort the captured assassins, none of whom appear to be even trying to escape, out as well. Suddenly unsteady on her feet, Veronica sits down on the ground. Hard.

Bruce and Shiva are instantly beside her, crouched down to check on her. “You’re losing a lot of blood,” Bruce says, and Veronica cries out as he clamps down on the cut on her forearm that has soaked her sleeve through and continues to drip. “Must have nicked an artery.”

“Hurts,” she mutters.

“I know,” he bites out. “Got to keep pressure on it.” He and Shiva help her to her feet. “Can you walk or shall I carry you?”

“I can walk.”

She is half-carried, half-marched to the infirmary, where Bruce insists the physicians work on her wound before they tend the cuts on his back or bind up his ribs, two of which are broken with several more severely bruised.

As they bandage Veronica up, Shiva tells her, “You did well,” and Bruce offers a thumbs up. The warm pride in her chest is better than the two tablets of heavy-dosage painkiller the physician gives her.

After they are released from the infirmary, they quickly change clothes and make their way to the study.

“Once again, I must find myself apologizing for requiring you to defend yourselves against unauthorized attacks within my stronghold,” Ra’s says by way of greeting. He is seated at a table, a teacup at this elbow.

Veronica shrugs, wincing a little as the movement sends agony shooting from her injured shoulder. “To be honest, at this point, I would probably be worried I was losing my touch if someone didn’t try to kill me every few months.”

Ra’s chuckles. “Be that as it may, this travesty is as much an insult to me as a threat to your continued wellbeing.” He sobers. “Bruce, I have decided that your first mission to qualify as a Shadow will be to find and neutralize this conspiracy.

“I am also charging you with Veronica’s safety, although you may request the Lady Shiva’s assistance should your investigation take you where she cannot follow. I have not been secretive in my regard, and I have no doubt the attention she has drawn is a direct consequence of my favoritism.”

Veronica wonders if Ra’s sees the flash of grim satisfaction in Bruce’s eyes before he executes a short bow, a little more stilted than graceful so as not to rip out the stitches in his back. “I accept.”

“Veronica, perhaps you will break your fast with me this morning while Bruce interrogates your assailants.” It is not a request, so Veronica simply sits down across from him. “Bruce, I have instructed the guards to await your arrival.”

Bruce executes a League salute, turns on his heel, and leaves the room. Once he does, a servant enters with a tray and lays out a traditional Middle Eastern breakfast spread, with pita bread sliced into triangles, labneh, za’atar, olives, dates, tomatoes, and cucumber slices. A fresh teapot and an empty cup for Veronica are set on the table as well.

“Go ahead, child,” the Head of the Demon tells her gently. So Veronica picks up one of slices of pita bread and starts topping some of the food over it.

Before she takes her first bite, Veronica says, “You know I’m going to help Bruce with this case.”

Ra’s chuckles and begins to serve himself. “But of course. I would expect nothing less.”

“You know I’m going with him when he leaves here.”

“Little cat, I am well aware.”

Veronica’s eyes narrow thoughtfully as she chews, then swallows. “You never expected me to stay.”

The old man’s smile is indulgent. “Indeed. Though your claws have sharpened, there is no place for kittens in the League of Shadows. All my shadows belong to a breed more predatory than yours.”

“You would keep Bruce, though, if you could.”

“In all my centuries, I have seen few with as great potential to serve as my heir than Bruce Wayne. He is truly magnificent in all aspects but one.”

Veronica nods. “He refuses to take human life. It’s not very assassiny of him, and you can’t have an heir who doesn’t kill.”

The head assassin’s mouth quirks up. “Assassiny? No, it—he—certainly is not that. A pity, really, that he remains such an idealist despite everything. Still, idealists have their uses, especially ones as gifted as he.”

“But you’ll let him go.”

“When he accomplishes this task.”

“And me?”

“Yes, of course. You had my blessing the moment you swore the oath.”

“You didn’t tell me. I could have left ages ago.”

“Would you have left?” No, but not for the reason he thinks. She stays silent. “Then I merely saved you the trouble of making the decision.”

Veronica sighs. Even after all this time, she is still not used to his feudal overlord act. “Why now? You had to have suspected someone was working against you. You probably only kept me around because you wanted to have another investigator close by.”

“That is one of the reasons,” Ra’s allows. “However, my amusement with you has been genuine. The entertainment your company has afforded me has been another reason, and an equally compelling one.”

“There’s more.” Veronica can feel it in her gut, that he isn’t telling her everything, so it is not a question.

“Oh yes. I could not help but wonder at your fascination with Gotham. Bruce I quite understand, as he was born there and that city is the type that either eats its young or digs its claws and teeth into them so its taint is never truly dislodged from their souls. You, however, had never been to Gotham until you set yourself on Bruce’s trail, and yet you are similarly afflicted.”

“Why do you keep talking like that?”

“And who or what, pray tell, am I talking like?”

“You’re talking like you have already decided Gotham is unsaveable, even when it isn’t.”

“Gotham is a cancer, a toxic concentration of avarice and corruption, a haven for madmen and murderers who do not know the meaning of fear, who do not receive the justice they deserve.”

“That isn’t all Gotham is, and Bruce will be a big part of what cures it. Maybe he _is_ the cure.”

“It is a big responsibility to lay upon a single man’s shoulders, little cat. Are you sure your faith will be rewarded?”

“He is equal to the task. And he isn’t alone.” She smirks. “He has me. He has Lucius Fox and Leslie Thompkins and Jim Gordon. And he has a butler.”

Ra’s laughs quietly. “I have lived too long to put my faith in heroes. They are only men.”

“Women too. Don’t forget. It’s the 21st century.”

He smiles. “Are you accusing me of misogyny?”

“Yes,” she says blandly.

He throws his head back and laughs. “I will not deny the point. My daughters would likely agree with you.”

“Yes,” she says again.

“But _my_ point is that mankind never fails to disappoint. Especially when given tasks better suited to gods. Humanity is a destructive force unleashed upon the earth. As Bruce has his mission, so I have mine, and I have undertaken the responsibility of maintaining the balance.”

Veronica scowls. “You’re forgetting that humanity creates as much as it destroys. You really need to stop with this glass-half-empty attitude of yours.”

Ra’s laughs again. “Ah, child, I can only hope you never change. I had not laughed so often or so well in centuries before your arrival. If Bruce does not see the gift in having you for a friend—or a sibling, as you claim—then he is a thousand times a fool. I will miss you.”

Uncomfortable with the praise, Veronica hams it up, fluttering her eyelashes and saying in an exaggerated southern belle accent, “Why, Mr. al Ghul, you do say the kindest things.” She is gratified when he laughs. “Still,” she adds in a normal voice, “we have only just started investigating. We’re not leaving yet.”

“I have every confidence in the detective’s abilities, and yours.”


	13. Freedom Within Reach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Veronica are on the case! It’s an internal affairs investigation, but because it’s the League of Shadows, of course someone’s plotting epic villainy.

Veronica is fairly certain she is the walking, talking answer to the riddle “What’s black and blue and blonde all over?”

Thanks to her injuries, she is released from training for the next few days. Lady Shiva keeps her company as she updates her case files and works on her Russian. Yet there are any so many hours in a day Veronica can devote to conjugation, so by the time Bruce shows up looking absolutely exhausted, Veronica is playing both sides of a chessboard.

“None of them would talk,” Bruce says. “All they would say is that they did it for the League. They’re complete zealots to their cause.”

“But why go against Ra’s if they are doing it for the League?” Veronica asks.

“Then their faction must believe whatever Ra’s is planning doesn’t align with the League’s goals.”

Veronica frowns. “But the guy has been the Head of the Demon for six hundred years!” After her initiation, Veronica learned about the League’s Lazarus Pits, which can rejuvenate the old, heal life-threatening injuries, and even resurrect the dead.  She knows this is the secret to the Demon’s long life. “So wouldn’t that mean that basically Ra’s _is_ the League of Shadows?”

“Ra’s is not the League,” Shiva says. When the two Americans turn to look at her, she shrugs. “I am a Shadow, but I only serve Ra’s while he has something to teach me.”

“Hnn.” Bruce looks thoughtful. “Didn’t you tell me Sara said Nyssa disagreed with her father’s goals and methods?”

“Yes.”

“We need to speak with her.”

“She’s been overseeing Nanda Parbat for the past month or so.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Ra’s authorizes their flight to Tibet using one of the League’s jets. Bruce lets Veronica test her new piloting skills while he copilots, and he does little more than grunt when she takes the sleek jet through a series of maneuvers that could reasonably be called “showboating.”

When they arrive in Nanda Parbat, Nyssa and Sara greet Veronica and Shiva warmly, Bruce with stilted politeness.

“My father has instructed me to cooperate with your investigation,” Nyssa tells him.

“That would be appreciated,” he responds.

“It’s _our_ investigation, actually,” Veronica chimes in—in Russian.

Nyssa, whose mother was Russian and who was born there, lights up. Laughing, she says, “Your accent is atrocious, little catling.”

Veronica grimaces. “So Bruce keeps telling me.”

“It’s better than mine, anyway,” Sara says with a grin. “I’ve been told I’m hopeless.”

“Have you tried the programs Bruce has me on? Bet you can requisition it. I’ve been using a mix of the Michel Thomas method and the Pimsleur program. They’re really great if you just want to be able to understand and maybe manage a conversation—”

Bruce coughs softly.

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Guess it’s business first, before gossip.”

Despite her obvious misgivings about Bruce, Nyssa is upfront about what she calls her philosophical differences with her father, which caused their rift around the time of the first World War.

“Hold up.” Veronica is staring at Nyssa. “I know this is rude and all, but gal pal of mine, how _old_ are you?”

Sara snorts. “I can tell you ours redefines the term ‘May-December romance.’”

Nyssa smiles. “I was born during the reign of Yekaterina Alekseyevna, or perhaps you know her as Yekaterina Velikaya.”

When Veronica looks blank, Bruce grunts. “Catherine the Great.”

“Holy shit, that’s like two hundred years ago.”

“Late 1700s,” Bruce confirms.

“You don’t look a day over twenty-five,” Veronica says, staring. “You must share your beauty regimen with me.”

“It’s called a Lazarus Pit,” Nyssa says wryly while Sara snickers.

Bruce shifts in his seat. Veronica glances at him and rolls her eyes. “So you were talking about the rift with your dad, which was, what? A hundred years ago?”

“Just a few years short of that,” Nyssa agrees. “He had begun to lean more and more toward extremism in his mission to maintain balance to the earth, claiming the need to cleanse it of humanity’s taint. I had believed our connection permanently severed after the Second World War, when he left my family and I to Auschwitz, refusing to render us aid even though the League had extensive ties within both the Nazi Regime and the Alliance.”

“He did _what_?” Veronica’s face turns ashen.

Nyssa’s gaze is shrewd, bleak with the years of her suffering. “I have told you that my father is not a good man. He perhaps protected you from that side of himself that has forgotten its humanity, but you must understand that the damage between us will never be repaired, for all that he is and remains my sire.”

“How—” Veronica stops, licks lips gone white and dry. “How can you even still work with him? Visit him? You agreed to train me when he asked.”

“I was curious about his stray kitten,” Nyssa says, amusement in her dark eyes. Except for her angular bone structure, she looks nothing like Ra’s, unlike Talia. “I had heard rumors he had learned to laugh again. I—” She pauses. “As a child, I was constantly begging my mother for stories of him. She told me tales filled with romance and laughter, and though I never knew him, I built myself up to become a warrior he would be honored to call daughter.

“When I found him, he acknowledged me. But while I served him for over a century, he seldom spoke of my mother, and I had never heard him laugh until I visited ‘Eth Alth’eban and walked past his study while you lost a game of chess quite spectacularly.”

“Are you involved in the conspiracy that led to our attack the other day?” Bruce’s face and voice are placid, emotionless.

Nyssa shakes her head. “I have attacked my father, my siblings, and several members of the League in the past. You and the catling are merely pawns to him, as I was, and you have participated in no actions against me. I have no quarrel with you. Indeed, it seems as though your presence has caused him to rethink some of his more… radical plans for the near future. Perhaps you should seek your quarry among those who supported him before the advent of _котенок_.”

There is fondness and amusement in the way Nyssa says _kitten_ in Russian. Veronica wrinkles her nose at her, and she laughs. “You are indeed very like the kitten my father named you,” Nyssa says smiling. “But I think it causes him to think of you always as a pawn.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Veronica says.

“Still,” Nyssa continues, “you must recall that in chess there is a rule that allows the promotion of a pawn. If you can maneuver yourself to the other end of my father’s chessboard, catling, I suspect it will take him by surprise when you become a queen.”

Veronica is silent for a long while. “In spite of everything,” she says slowly, “he has been kind to me, as much as he can be, I think. I don’t know what I would do if I had to come up against him.”

She smiles lopsidedly. “You described a monster, but you’re probably right in that it’s a side of him he has never let me see. Most of the time, he’s a guy who looks a little older than my dad who doesn’t have friends and takes himself too seriously.”

She’s always thought of herself as a cynic, but Bruce, Shiva, Nyssa, and Sara share exchange looks that leave her feeling like a naïve child.

Finally, Nyssa says, “Perhaps that is your gift, to look upon monsters and see the men and women they could be if they but set aside their madness.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“She’s not what I expected,” Bruce tells Veronica later. They are back in Veronica’s old room in Nanda Parbat after a day spent interrogating the masters who trained many of the Shadows involved in the attack.

“She has honor,” Lady Shiva says. “And she sees clearly where many dwell in fog.”

“I told you she was nice.”

“Veronica.” Bruce’s voice is tired. “She is one of the deadliest assassins in the world.”

“She’s my friend, and so is Sara.”

“Irrelevant.”

“Says you. But I knew before we came here that she wasn’t involved no matter how likely you thought it might be.”

Bruce says nothing, as they had argued the point over the journey here.

“She did raise an interesting point, though, about looking for the culprits among the people who supported whatever Ra’s was planning.”

He nods thoughtfully. “So we put our ears to the ground for rumors of dissent among his closest advisors.”

“Shadows question if Ra’s has gone soft,” Lady Shiva agrees, making both of them sit up, alert and assessing.

“So you _have_ heard the rumors?” Veronica asks. Shiva nods. “Do you know what his plans were? That might help us identify who supported him.”

The assassin shakes her head. “The only thing I had heard,” she says slowly, “was that whatever it was would be of larger impact than New York.”

Bruce seems to turn into a living statue in that moment.

Veronica is confused. “New York?”

“Jesus,” Bruce breathes. “You think—?”

Shiva nods.

“What?” Veronica demands, a scowl on her face.

“9/11,” he says quietly.

For a long time, there is nothing any of them can say.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Eventually, Shiva retires. Bruce inputs data into their shared casefile. Veronica is thinking about her chat with Ra’s in the study the day they got attacked.

“Bruce, there’s something you need to know.”

He stops typing. Turns. Waits with one eyebrow raised.

“When you were interrogating those assassins, Ra’s and I had something like a heart to heart.”

“You told me this.”

“You remember I told you he said one of the reasons he was interested in me was because he couldn’t figure out why someone who wasn’t born and raised in Gotham would be so interested in it?”

“Yes.”

“I think whatever his plans were or are, they have something to do with Gotham.”

He freezes, then scrubs a hand down his face. “Of course they do.”

“I didn’t put it together until now,” Veronica says, and suddenly the words are coming back in a rush. “He called Gotham ‘a cancer, a toxic concentration of avarice and corruption.’ So if he’s planning something like the attack on New York, I think it would focus on Gotham. And it explains you.”

“Because of my position? He doesn’t need a spoiled rich boy to bury Gotham. He can afford a nuke if he wants one badly enough.”

“Yeah, I get that. But he told me he knew I would never be a Shadow because it’s not in me. So why didn’t he know that about you?”

“We are not alike, Veronica.”

“Where it counts we are,” she argues. “And he has to know how averse you are to killing.”

“He does.”

“It’s like, one of the most fundamental things about you. I mean—” She stops. “What do you mean, _he does_?”

“He told me my mission was to neutralize the conspiracy. He didn’t tell me to execute the conspirators, although that could have been one interpretation of his orders. But Ra’s would never assign a mission and word his orders ambiguously unless he did so intentionally.”

“You’re right.”

“And so are you. His plan revolved around Gotham. The question now is whether _Nyssa_ is right as well, in that his plans have changed.”

“So who would know that? In the League, I mean. It’s not like Ra’s goes blabbing about his plans or when he changes them.”

“Talia. The Sensei.” Veronica had only seen the ancient man once, and she had never gotten an adequate explanation for his place in the League of Shadows, only that it was somewhere high up. “Ubu. The Seven.”

“The Seven?”

Bruce turns back to his computer and starts typing quickly, likely updating the “theories” section of their casefile with what they’ve just extrapolated. “The Seven Men of Death, Ra’s al Ghul’s hit squad. I don’t know who’s on it exactly, apart from Hook and Merlyn.”

“Okay. Anyone else?”

“David Cain.”

“Didn’t he train you at one point?”

“I—yes. There is also some history with Lady Shiva. She refuses to speak of it.”

“Okay. Do you think she’ll tell us if it’s likely he’d be involved? Would she even know?”

“Perhaps.”

“I’ll ask her tomorrow, then. Who do you think are the most likely suspects?”

“Talia, Ubu, the Sensei.”

Veronica nods. “I don’t know much about any of them. Give me a copy when you’ve written it down?”

“Okay.”

He lapses back into silence, fingers flying over his laptop’s keyboard. Veronica works on her own file, coming up with likely methods the League would use to attack Gotham. All of which paint a grim picture. Nuclear bomb. Chemical warfare. Biological warfare. Some other unknown weapon of mass destruction.

But, she reasons, these can be used anywhere. She remembers what Mycroft Holmes told her about the League, what she herself has learned of the Shadows’ history as an organization. They have attacked entire cities in the past. Then it’s as if a lightbulb goes off in her head.

The League has always adhered to their particular sense of justice, of symmetry in their large-scale endeavors. Sacking Rome because the Romans had styled themselves conquerors of the world. Razing London’s decadence, its opulence, to ashes. The First World War had left some of Western civilization’s greatest nations devastated.

The League—Ra’s, Veronica reminds herself—thinks of these terrible events not as disasters, but as catharses. They ascribe to a more ancient ideal of justice and seek to take its execution out of the gods’ hands and into their own. The League thinks itself nemesis to humanity’s hubris, and this is what fuels Ra’s al Ghul’s obsession with what he calls balance.

So. If Gotham is the League’s next target, their plans for its downfall would revolve around its perceived faults. Veronica decides Greek aesthetics are a good reference for thinking about the League of Shadows’ inner workings, she frowns as she walks her memory palace as Bruce taught her, trying to think back to lessons from high school English classes.

 _Hamartia_ , she realizes. The fatal flaw that leads to a hero’s downfall in a classic tragedy, which leads the audience (she supposes Ra’s thinks of the rest of humanity as the audience to his orchestrations) to realize some essential truth about the human condition or the world itself.

 _So what is Gotham’s hamartia?_ She asks herself. She knows what _she_ would answer to that; she even knows what Bruce would say. They have spent long nights discussing the way Gotham’s illness is rooted in poverty and manifests itself in crime and corruption.

But it isn’t her opinions that she needs to focus on, or Bruce’s. It’s Ra’s al Ghul’s. She thinks back to her conversation with him. What had he said about the city? _Gotham is a cancer, a toxic concentration of avarice and corruption, a haven for madmen and murderers who do not know the meaning of fear, who do not receive the justice they deserve._

Oh.

“Bruce?”

“Hnn.”

“Bruce, do you know anything about a chemical weapon the League might use in Gotham? Maybe one that has something to do with inciting fear on a large-scale, perhaps city-wide basis?”

Bruce stops typing. Spins around and pins Veronica with a hard stare. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought I’d try to work out what Ra’s originally planned for Gotham.” She quickly runs him through her thought process—they’ve spent so much time together and talked about so many things that it doesn’t take long for him to catch on.

“So you think because he talked about the toxic corruption in Gotham and how its criminals need to be reintroduced to the meaning of fear, that his plans involve chemical warfare of some sort.”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s just a theory—”

“It fits.”

“It does?”

“Blue poppy.”

“Okay, what? You’ve totally lost me.”

Bruce sighs. “When Ra’s first found me in that prison, he told me that if I wanted to become his student, I would come to Nanda Parbat and bring one of the blue flowers I found on a particular mountainside. It’s a species of blue poppy.”

“Poppy as in opium?”

“Yeah, and it works along the same concepts as that. Except if you get dosed, instead of bliss you get—”

“Fear.”

 “Yeah. It’s one of the tests I took to prove I was ready for a mission.”

“So we know they have it.”

“The League of Shadows has used it to test its initiates for centuries.”

“It’s airborne, right? It’s not something they could dump into the city water supply?”

“It is most effective in aerosol form,” Bruce acknowledges. “But I do not know if they have devised a plan for large-scale distribution.”

“And we’re both agreed that, as far as the League of Shadows is concerned, if they enact this plan, it’s go big or go home.”

A nod.

“Okay then. I’m gonna type this up and add it to our casefile. You can add the details about the toxic flower power.”

Bruce turns back to his computer. They room is silent except for the clacking of keys from two laptop keyboards.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Cain is not involved, or not directly so,” Lady Shiva tells them the next day while they are on the plane back to the Middle East. “He is… preoccupied… with another project for Ra’s.”

“Are you sure? Do you know what the project is?”

“It is for the Demon’s protection,” Lady Shiva says. “I am aware of it because I was involved in the beginning, but my part in it has since been concluded.”

Bruce gives the assassin an inscrutable look. Veronica knows Shiva is leaving a lot out of her explanation, but she’s pretty sure the other woman would mention anything that might be relevant to the case. The subject obviously made her uncomfortable, so Veronica was okay with dropping it for now.

“What about the Seven?”

Lady Shiva looks thoughtful. “The Seven take orders only from Ra’s or the Sensei. Their function is not to comprehend the League’s plans, only to execute. Of their number, perhaps only Merlyn would try to question a change of agenda, but the Seven do not take part in planning or operations. They exist for one function only—to carry out the orders of Ra’s al Ghul.”

“So we’re back to our original three suspects: Talia, Ubu, and the Sensei.”

“Of those, three I would rank Talia and the Sensei the highest. Talia’s history you already know, and there has been talk of some dissention between Ra’s and the Sensei. Something to do with Darhk, who was at one time Heir to the Demon and then rival to Ra’s for leadership of the League.”

“Any details on what caused the rift? Or on Darhk?” Bruce asks.

“No, it was over long before I joined the League, and Ra’s does not speak his name nor allow his confederates to do so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The blue flowers from the mountain in Bhutan seen in the Nolanverse make a brief appearance in this fic!


	14. Catch and Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The villain is revealed, and no one is particularly surprised. Plus, it takes a lot to get Bruce emotional, but it does happen.

Bruce and Veronica report directly to Ra’s upon their return. They do not explain what they have extrapolated about the League’s plans, only that they have deduced that there _are_ plans in place, that these plans may have changed recently, and that its supporters are the most likely suspects for the conspiracy.

When Bruce names the three people on his list, Ra’s seems thoughtful. “It is not the Sensei,” he says. “The old man might wish to see my position weakened, but he would not care about you, Veronica, or Gotham.”

After a moment, he continues. “It is not Ubu, either. He is trained to my complete service, if a trifle overzealous.” He smiles a little. “He may be quite jealous of and harbor some animosity toward you, Detective, but he is quite fond of Veronica.”

Bruce mutters something Veronica can’t quite hear, but it sounds a lot like, “Of course he is.”

Veronica, in the meantime, is taken completely by surprise. She stares at the gigantic bodyguard, silent as ever at his master’s back. “I don’t think I’ve even spoken to you besides maybe saying ‘thank you’ or ‘excuse me’ from time to time. Oh, and sorry that one time I bumped into you on the way out of the dining room one night.”

The man’s gaze flicks to her face for perhaps half a second, then his face reverts to its customary blankness.

Ra’s looks amused. “That is more than most people say to Ubu. Also, I recall the incident of which you speak. You forget that you are quite diminutive and Ubu is very large, and yet you were so profuse in your apologies, one would imagine you believed you had knocked him over. He was… bemused.”

“Huh.” She pauses, lets that sink in, then moves on. “So it’s Talia, then.”

Bruce says nothing. His face and body show nothing. He might as well be made from stone.

“She is the most likely candidate, yes.”

“I guess we have to talk to her, then.”

“I will summon her.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Talia showed up a couple of hours later flanked by her manservant, who was bald, built, and wore some kind of aspirator mask that made him sound like Darth Vader when he echoed his lady’s greeting to the Demon.

“I see you have not grown tired of your pet,” Talia says with a sneer for Veronica. “Nor you, beloved, though you go nightly to her chamber. I would not have thought such a cheap concubine would hold your interest for so lengthy a time.”

“Okay, gross,” Veronica says. “We’re not dancing the horizontal tango or anything. He’s like my brother.”

Bruce narrows his eyes at her. She’s pretty sure he’s trying to silently will her to shut up. But snappy retorts are pretty much Veronica’s superpower, and she has a tendency to let her mouth run away with her when emotions run high.

“Daughter, it has come to my attention that you are the prime suspect in the conspiracy to discredit me within the League.”

Talia’s eyes widen briefly, then narrow into furious slits. “Father, with all due respect,” she all but spits out, “you have been your own biggest discreditor over the past several years. You have allowed for indulgences that never would have been tolerated in League initiates in the past.”

“You speak of Veronica.”

“And Bruce.”

“You speak against your beloved?”

“I speak against his ruination, which you brought about with your coddling.”

“Because I did not support your plan to coerce his marriage?”

_Okay, what now? Marriage?_ Veronica looks over at Bruce, who looks surprised as well. _Huh._

“Because you let him become a Shadow without taking a life to prove his commitment to our cause!”

“I see.”

“Obviously you do not. And on the point of this dilettante? Your so-called kitten? She was not fit to be initiated, nor will she ever prove adequate to be elevated as a Shadow!”

“I will grant you that last.”

“I don’t—what?” The winds are so violently taken out of Talia’s sails that Veronica is forced to bite down on the urge to giggle at her flummoxed expression.

“Veronica would not make a good Shadow. She and I have discussed and agreed upon this point. Thus, I gave her my blessing to depart.”

“So after all that,” Talia says slowly, her voice low and raw and burning with rage, “after all the trouble of having your little pet trained, you simply release her into the world, with full knowledge of our secrets?”

Ra’s waves a dismissive hand. “She swore the oath, like every initiate has done since the dawn of our organization.”

Veronica probably should have seen it coming, but she has let herself get distracted by the drama, so she is taken by surprise at Talia’s thin scream of rage, triggered by the Demon’s condescension. Of course, it isn’t Ra’s Talia attacks, but Veronica.

The other woman pulls out a gun and takes aim in a movement almost too quick to see, but Bruce knocks the pistol out of her hand in a lightning-quick move of his own.

In the next moment, though, the Darth Vader-wannabe bodyguard attacks Bruce. Talia pulls out a dagger and launches herself at Veronica, who manages to deflect the woman’s attempt to stab her in the heart in an overhand move. She blocks kicks and hits, but Talia is faster and better trained than she is, and after a few successful evasions, Veronica is knocked off her feet.

Then she feels Talia’s weight over her body as a blade slides under her ribs, her insides are on fire, and she can’t breathe.

“ENOUGH!”

Veronica sees the glint of a blade under Talia’s chin, raises her gaze and sees Ra’s holding a sword to his daughter’s neck.

“Step back, detective, and see to Veronica,” Ra’s says calmly. To Talia, he says, “Order your creature to desist unless you would like Ubu to remove his head. He has none of the restraint you seem to abhor in your ‘beloved.’”

In the next moment, Talia’s weight is gone, and the blade slides out of her flesh, but Veronica still can’t seem to catch her breath. She blinks, and then she is staring into Bruce’s face.

“Veronica,” he says. “I’m going to put pressure on the wound.” Then he presses down, and she knows he does it because it’s as if her body is made of pain, and her vision goes spotty. “Stay with me.”

She coughs, it’s a wet sound. “B-Bruce?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m here. Keep your eyes open, okay?”

Ra’s speaks and Bruce replies, but she can’t focus enough to make out what they are saying. Then Bruce is lifting her, and she cries out because it feels like Talia is stabbing her over and over again. “Ow,” she says, and blacks out.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Someone is muttering her name. She is still being jostled. It still hurts like a son of a bitch.

“Come on, Veronica. Wake up. Damn it, Veronica, open your eyes.”

She does. Her face is tucked into someone’s shirt. Every movement is agony. Whoever it is, he’s still talking.

“It’s over, we’re going home, but you have to wake up, little sister. You promised to treat me to your favorite ice cream place, remember? Amy’s? And we’re gonna have lasagna at Luigi’s.”

“Bruce?” It sounds like Bruce.

“Veronica.” The sound of her name is drenched in relief. “Stay awake, for me, okay? We’re going to get you fixed up, then we’re going home. We can go to Neptune before we go to Gotham, so you can see your dad and Lilly and Mac and Wallace, and I can threaten Echolls into behaving.”

“N-not Bruce.”

“Veronica, it’s me. It’s Bruce. I’m here.”

“Talking… too much. Not Bruce.”

He huffs out a laugh. It sounds like a sob. It sounds like a sound she would make if she didn’t hurt so much.

“Always have to be a wiseass, don’t you, Mars?”

“Al—” She coughs. From what feels like a long way away, some part of her observes that coughs aren’t supposed to sound like that. Wet and thick and ugly. She doesn’t even feel it when blood comes up instead of air.

“Shit, stay with me, Veronica.”

“Down here, Detective.” Ra’s.

He’s moving faster now, because her vision is shaking, but thankfully she doesn’t feel it.

“Give her to me.”

“I—”

“There is no time. If she is dead when she enters the Pit, I cannot guarantee she will return with her mind intact.”

She feels herself shifted into another set of arms. “Ra-Ra’s.”

“Yes, kitten. Everything will be all right.”

He lowers her into the green, then lets her go. She feels her body sink, her limbs too heavy to move.

And then, in the distance, someone is screaming. It sounds far away and cannot possibly be her. But strangely, it _feels_ like the shrill screams are clawing themselves out of her throat.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

She wakes up, which is a pleasant surprise. Better, she wakes up in bed. Best yet, she realizes as she cracks an eye open, she’s in her own bed and nothing hurts. She moves a little, experimentally, and one side is fine, but on the other, her hand feels heavy. So she just lies there for a moment.

“Veronica. How do you feel?”

Oh. Her hand feels heavy because Bruce is holding onto it with one of his. Huh.

“Not dead.”

He snorts. “No.”

“It’s nice.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She just stares at him. He has a habit of downplaying or outright ignoring any injuries he receives, and she has called him out on it more than once. “I’m fine.”

“Ra’s? Talia?”

“Ra’s will see us whenever you’re up to it. Talia’s in a holding cell.”

“Good.”

She remembers him fighting.

“Darth Vader?”

“What? Here, drink some water.”

He holds a cup to his lips. The water is cool and she almost cries from how good it feels going down her throat.

“Thanks.”

“What were you asking about?”

“Darth Vader?” He looks blank. She tries again. “The bodyguard?”

“Bane.”

“Whatever.”

“He’s in a holding cell too. Not the same one as Talia’s.”

“Okay.”

“Shiva was here earlier. She, uh, got you into some dry clothes.”

“’Kay.”

“Anything hurt? Ra’s says there shouldn’t be.”

“Nope.” She pops the P and he smiles. She realizes it’s true, and she feels fine except for a bit of stiffness and sluggishness, so she sits up. She lifts her shirt only to find her torso free of the wound that should have killed her, though there is a thin, slightly raised line where Talia’s blade had slid in. Dizzily, she realizes even the slice on her forearm has healed; in its place is a scar that looks months, even years old.

She frowns. “How long was I out?”

“Around two hours.”

“What.”

He stares at her intensely, then asks, “What do you remember?”

“Talia stabbed me.” She frowns. “You were babbling. It wasn’t like you.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, well, it isn’t like you to be dying in my arms. You called me Not-Bruce.”

“I remember. Then… Green?”

“Lazarus Pit.”

“Not fun.”

“No. When are you going to talk in full sentences again?”

“Now?” She smirks.

“Ha. You keep doing that, and you’ll freak Ra’s out. He’ll think a pod person came out of the pit.”

She starts to giggle, then laughs outright. After a moment, Bruce joins her.

“Don’t do that again,” he says finally.

“What? Almost die?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Good.”

“You said we were going home.”

“Yeah. We’ll both have to be declared legally un-dead.”

She pouts. “We’ll both know the truth, though,” she whispers.

“Hm?”

“Only one of us got Pit-dipped.”

He smirks. “You say that like you enjoyed it.” She sticks out her tongue at him. He stands up, stretches. “Want to talk to Ra’s so we can get out of here?”

“Absolutely.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Ra’s smiles when he sees her. “It is good to see you are well, _quth saghiruh_.”

“Good as new,” Veronica says, smiling slightly.

“I imagine you are ready to return home. The detective as well.”

“Yep.” She pops the P.

“I have made arrangements for your return to the United States.”

“Thanks.” Veronica looks at the man at her side. His face is impassive. She pauses for a moment, then makes a decision. “We know what you’re planning for Gotham.”

Bruce tenses at her side, but doesn’t give anything else away.

“Ah, I had wondered.” He steeples his hands, then lays them on his lap with a slightly sheepish smile when she stares at them pointedly and raises her eyebrows. “I imagine you deduced that my plans had been altered somewhat, which was one reason for Talia’s… unhappiness with me.”

“So you’re not going to unleash a chemical weapon on the second biggest city in the United States.” Veronica thinks these things bear clarifying. Millions of lives, and all that.

“Let us say I have been persuaded to stay my hand at this juncture.”

She scowls. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You sold me a fairytale about the Prince of Gotham and the salvation of a city,” he says, and Veronica sees Bruce shift his weight just the slightest bit. “So I have decided to act upon tradition.”

He’s obviously enjoying the drama, so Veronica waits him out. Because, she reminds herself, he may have saved her life, but he’s still a textbook villain. As evidenced by the fact that he has once more steepled his fingers.

“As I am sure you know, seven is a symbolic number in legends and fairytales.”

Veronica nods. “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, the seven heavens of Islam, seven years of bad luck when you break a mirror.”

“Yes, exactly. So I will desist for seven years so the detective can conduct what I’ve begun to think of as the Gotham Experiment.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Is that like the American Experiment?”

“Indeed. In much the same way the country of your birth continues to try to prove the efficacy of a republic, Bruce Wayne will need to prove the possibility of salvation.”

“Or else you level the city in seven years.”

“I could do it in seven months. It makes little difference to me except that I am curious to test your hypothesis.”

“Parameters.” Bruce speaks for the first time. What is he talking about?

“Ah, excellent. Crime rates, obviously, but I will require more data.”

“HDI.” What.

“Yes, the Human Development Index should be a tolerable baseline measure, although I would require the use of the inequality-adjusted HDI.”

It takes some thinking before Veronica can recall a discussion Ra’s and Bruce had had during one of their after-supper chess games. The United Nations Development Program’s HDI is a rating that takes into account life expectancy, education, and standard of living. Most of the United States is ranked above the median in the inequality-adjusted HDI, but Gotham routinely falls short of the median in its assessments.

“Fine.” What the eff? Is he serious?

They shake on it. So obviously he is. Veronica seethes. He meets her eyes, makes a subtle hand gesture. _Later_. Fine.

“Now that that is concluded, or shall we say deferred, we have another matter to settle.”

Ra’s sends Ubu to the door, and a small man who would look like an accountant if he weren’t wearing the standard League of Shadows ninja-style attire enters the room. He hands Bruce and Veronica identical file folders, then exits the room.

“We have backstopped a story we believe will do nicely for your re-entry into the land of the living,” Ra’s says.

The first page is an overview. Veronica skims it quickly. According to the cover story, she had been tracking Bruce Wayne and her trail had led her to an international terrorist group operating out of Eastern Europe and the Middle East.

She had been caught investigating, survived the blast that killed Sandra Wu-San, and promptly abducted. She was smuggled out of the US and held prisoner along with a man she had recognized as Bruce Wayne. They had been identified as high-value hostages, despite their tendency to fight their captors.

They were to be moved to one of the terrorist group’s bases in the mountainous region of Markovia, just in time to be “rescued” by a joint taskforce of Markovian special forces and US Navy SEALs. Confidential sources had been feeding the CIA intel on the terrorist group for months, and Ra’s had ensured that chatter about three American hostages would be moved to the Markovian base in a little over 48 hours.

“This is… really detailed,” Veronica says.

“We prefer our cover stories to be ironclad,” Ra’s says mildly. “I have left it up to you to discuss with the detective as to what your shared experiences should be during your years in captivity.”

“Okay,” Veronica says slowly. “I get that you’re going to have us placed in the terrorist base—is it real?”

“Yes, very. They have been funding their activities through child trafficking. I abhor pedophiles, and I was happy for the excuse to engineer their downfall.”

“Yeah, that’s, uh, good.” Veronica smiles at him. “Thank you.” She hesitates.

“What is it, child?”

“So what happens with the League? I mean, I’m the only one who isn’t a Shadow, I guess? Since Bruce completed his mission.” Bruce looks up, but then just resumes reading the file. He’s gotten a pen somewhere and has taken to adding notes to some of the pages.

“Bruce has decided to part ways with the League. You and he have my blessing, so while I anticipate you will both lead lives interesting enough to put you in harm’s way on a regular basis, I will not make any moves against you and yours unless you first antagonize the League.”

“And Shiva?”

“Lady Shiva chooses to maintain her affiliation, but she has ever preferred a more independent status. I believe the time you have spent with us is the longest she has stayed within our enclaves. She has a great deal of affection for you, and this narrative will give you a reason to keep in touch with her should you so desire it. I imagine she will contact you after your arrival in the United States.”

“She’s my friend,” Veronica says simply.

“Yes, of course.” He smiles faintly. “I do not presume to anticipate you would have reason to want to contact me, but should you feel the need, you would be able to get a message through her. And you are welcome to visit here or Nanda Parbat should you desire it.”

Huh. She isn’t sure what she should say to that. So she just smiles. “Thank you.”

“I will miss you, little cat.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “You just need to surround yourself with actual people rather than sycophants. It will have the added bonus of people not thinking you’ve been enchanted when you change your mind about something.”

He chuckles. “Perhaps I do, at that.” He stands. “Come. You will need to pack your belongings, and the plane awaits you.” He pauses. “You may need to arrange for a convincing aesthetic with the detective, but you will find appropriate fashion on the plane. Your escorts in Markovia will be League agents, so you will at no time be in any real danger from the terrorist group.”

“Good to know,” Veronica says. Bruce just walks to the door silently.

“Then I’ll bid you adieu,” Ra’s al Ghul tells them formally. “Detective, I look forward to observing your progress upon your return to Gotham. I will be sure to contact you seven years from today.”

Bruce nods curtly. “Ra’s.”

“Peace and blessings be on you, _quth saghiruh,_ ” Ra’s tells Veronica. “Ubu and I will miss the laughter you bring to our home.”

Veronica smiles and waves at the gigantic manservant, who offers a ghost of a smile in return—the first she’s ever seen on him—and a small nod.

“Don’t go chillin’ like a villain,” she tells Ra’s. “I’m pretty sure there are ways you can achieve your ‘world balance’ goals without giving in to evil mastermind tendencies.”

“Perhaps,” he replies, amused. “If the Gotham Experiment is successful, I may consider it.”

“Good.”

“And for what it is worth, I will always treasure the memories of your sojourn with us.”

“You better!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Veronica Mars fans, feel free to draw the absolutely intentional parallels you might sketch from that last line. Not saying Donut in canon is as bad as a genocidal maniac... Or maybe I am?


	15. The Cover Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Veronica are headed home, but first they need to set up the cover story for their disappearances. Also, Veronica makes fun of Batman because she can.

Veronica pulls her suitcase out of her wardrobe and starts packing her old clothes into it so they can be easily disposed of. She’s just debating what to do with her laptop and the items in her purse when Bruce knocks on her door with a crate in his arms, which he sets down on her desk.

“I’ve applied a large magnet to my laptop to destroy the hard drive and can do the same for yours.”

“Okay. A bit paranoid, but go for it. Thank god I backed up any important files to the cloud before getting myself abducted by ninja assassins.”

“Hey, Bruce, do you think you could help me wipe my phone too?”

He takes the phone from her, smiling a little at the Wayne Enterprises logo. “I’ll get you a new one,” he promises as he starts to fiddle with it.

“You don’t have to.”

“Big brother’s prerogative.”

“Oh, _now_ you pull the big brother card? Seriously?”

He just shrugs.

In the next few minutes, Veronica destroys her credit and debit cards, and any other personal items she would’ve been carrying on her at the time of her abduction.

She looks long and hard at the star necklace Lilly gave her.

“You could give that to Shiva,” Bruce says. He’s seen it before and knows what it means to her.

“What?”

“You’d never be able to wear it again, but she could return it to you when she comes to visit you.”

“You think so?”

“It is a small favor. She is fond of you. What about these?” Bruce is holding up her keyring.

“Those would’ve been lost too,” Veronica says. Then she remembers something and pries one of the keys off the ring. At Bruce’s raised eyebrows, she huffs. “Alfred gave me that as a Christmas gift. I don’t know what it opens, but I didn’t want to lose it. I can give it to Shiva too, and later say it was in my jewelry box at home or something.”

“May I see it?”

She hands it over. He examines it for a moment, then holds it up so the bow of the key is right in front of her face. A tiny crest has been etched into the metals. “What is it?” Veronica asks, squinting. “It kinda looks like the logo for Hogwarts.”

Bruce sighs. “It’s the Wayne family coat of arms.”

“Why would he give me a key with your logo on it?”

“It’s not a logo, it’s—never mind. That’s not important.”

“Okay.”

“What I’m trying to tell you is that my butler gave you a key to my house. So keep it safe, little sister.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Shiva is waiting for them on the plane; she tells them she will accompany them as far as Markovia, but stay onboard when their escort arrives. She readily agrees to keep the small pouch with the key and necklace until she can return it to Veronica. Bruce gives them a rundown of the lengthy file the League has put together to detail the operation.

Then he suggests Shiva beat him and Veronica up so their cover story is more believable. Which she does with her typical efficiency. In no time at all, Veronica is sporting a black eye, a fat lip, and array of bruises to limbs and torso. Bruce is in a similarly poor condition.

“I have been considering our cover story,” Bruce says after a while. “It is an excellent lead up to the persona I must adopt to accomplish my Mission.”

Veronica frowns. “How so?” They have talked extensively about his Mission, and the public image he will need to juggle alongside his vigilante activities. She has spent quite a bit of time poking fun at his ideas for the Bat, although she has spent even more time helping him work out the kinks in his plans.

In the next moment, Bruce’s eyes become dull and vapid, his face goes slack, and he smiles toothily—no, _leers_ —at her. “Hi there, beautiful,” he says in an airy voice a register higher than his normal one. “I’m Brucie Wayne. And who might you be?” Even when he lowers his voice, he sounds nothing like himself. His tone is challenging, suggestive.

“That’s…” Veronica gropes for the right word.

“Disturbing,” Lady Shiva says.

“Yeah. Definitely creepy.”

“So I’ll tone down the creep factor. But nobody expects Prince Charming to be smart or perceptive, so neither will they expect it of Gotham’s Prince Brucie, billionaire playboy and paparazzi bait. Especially if it comes out that he suffered a traumatic brain injury during his time in captivity, changing his personality from a reserved boy to a more outspoken man.”

Veronica chews on her bottom lip as she considers the angles. It’s actually pretty brilliant. His blue blood ensures he’ll be at the top of Gotham’s social structure regardless of it, and it’s so completely the opposite what he has in mind for his Bat persona.

The only concern is how long he can maintain it without breaking cover. “We’ll have to research the medical aspect of it, just to make sure your personality changes line up with what’s likely to happen from that kind of thing. And we’ll have to practice.”

“Of course, of course,” Bruce—Brucie—says with a fluttering wave of his hand. The bruising on his knuckles does not detract from how ridiculous he looks. Even his body language is completely different from the Bruce Wayne she’s come to know.

“What’s your cover story, by the way? How did Bruce Wayne end up a hostage for terrorists in Markovia?”

“Kidnapped from a bar in Morocco. Traumatic brain injury, so details are vague.”

“What exactly are the symptoms of this traumatic brain injury you supposedly suffer?”

“Unpredictable behavior and poor impulse control. Billionaire playboy philanthropist Brucie Wayne will be easily confused or distracted and have a non-existent brain-to-mouth filter and increased libido.”

“So you’ll be impersonating a volatile-tempered man slut.”

“A volatile-tempered man slut with a passion for charitable endeavors. Don’t forget the important part. The only thing Brucie really cares about is the Wayne Foundation and continuing his parents’ legacy.”

She only frowns at him. “Do you really want to do this? You’ll have to keep up the cover for years, maybe even the rest of your life.”

“It’s the Mission.”

And because his Mission is the one thing Bruce never compromises on, Veronica knows he’s already committed. “Fine. I’ll even help you with the paps when we get stateside. And because I’m a good little sister, I will do you one better and help you with Alfred and Lucius.”

“I don’t need—”

“The US Navy will want the good PR of having rescued Bruce Wayne from a terrorist cell. We are coming home to a media circus.”

“I can handle it.”

“But you don’t have to handle it alone.”

He glares at her, and she glares right back. He looks away, and she knows she’s won.

After several minutes of silence as they both work plans out in their heads, Bruce speaks. “I’ve been thinking—”

“Always a dangerous pastime.” He scowls, but she just laughs. “Okay, I’ll bite. What have you been thinking about?”

“What are your plans for the future? You always talked about seeing your family again, but we never talked about what you want to do when the dust settles.”

“You know,” she says slowly. “I haven’t really thought about it. Mostly because I didn’t want to let myself think about it.”

“Well, now you can. And as a young woman of independent means—”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, even I have heard about the 50 million dollar reward known as the Wayne Bounty, and I’ve been living off the grid for a long time. The money’s yours. Alfred told you so, and I’ll back him up.”

“I’m already getting paid—”

“Which is only just. You should milk whatever you can get out of Jake Kane because the truth is that guy is a self-involved asshole.”

“Not that I’m disagreeing—”

“And fortunately we will be returning before his seven-year deadline. You are also absolved of any further obligation to his family outside of your duties as godmother to Lilly.”

“That’s true—”

“So you’ll have a healthy bank account either way.”

“Fine. I’m buying a pony.”

The teasing glint in his eyes dulls to confusion. “What?”

“I’m buying a pony. Or, more accurately, I’m buying a pony for my dad, so he can give it to me.”

“A pony.”

“I always wanted one, and my dad used to say he’d give me one someday.”

“Huh.”

“Don’t judge me!”

“No comment.” A pause. “I could buy you a pony.”

“No, I’m buying my dad a pony. You’re not allowed.”

Huff. “Why.”

“Because! The magic doesn’t work that way.”

“What magic.”

“The magic of my dad giving me a pony so I can pretend it’s a unicorn in hiding.”

“I don’t understand you.”

“You’re not required to. You just need to not buy me a pony.”

Pause. “Okay.”

After a while, she finally says, “I never got to answer your question.”

Bruce grunts. “Which question was that?”

“About what my plans are now that I’ve fulfilled my debt to the Kanes and I’m apparently going to be a multimillionaire, if I can’t talk you out of giving me a shitload of cash.”

“Hnn.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to hear them?”

“Hnn.”

“Well, I was thinking… I’ll basically be a single woman in possession of a good fortune…” She trails off and grins at him.

“Don’t tell me you’re in want of a wife. Or a husband. Your life is not a Jane Austen novel.”

“Noooo,” she says slowly, still grinning. “I was thinking more Agatha Christie or Robert Ludlum myself. But I’m definitely in want of something new to focus on.”

“Hnn.”

She keeps grinning. He scowls. Her grin just widens.

“Fine. What are you planning?”

“Weeeeeeeell,” she says slowly, “to quote a famous movie franchise, ‘The Mission, should you choose to accept it—'”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, it’s _my_ Mission. My city.”

“And my fault you find yourself on a deadline. Seven years is nothing. You’ve actually been gone almost that long. Plus, you’re my partner. And my friend-slash-brother. Also, who else am I going to get to keep training me? Except for Shiva, of course, but she’ll be off doing her mercenary stuff or League stuff. _And_ I’m the perfect consultant to help you perfect your image of douchebag debauchery, seeing as how I grew up with a bunch of real-life examples.”

“No.”

“No, to what? No, you’re not my partner? No, you’re not my friend? No, you’re finished training me?”

“No to all of the above.”

“Or so you think. I’m a decent investigator, you know. I might not be as great at the physical ass-kicking as you and Shiva, but I’m not terrible, either, and I’m going to get better, whether or not you’ll help me with my training.”

“I know.”

“So it’s not like I’m not qualified to do the work.”

“I know.”

“So why won’t you let me help?”

“I work best alone.”

“No, you don’t, you’re just emotionally stunted and in denial of your feelings. Doesn’t matter. I love you anyway, big brother. So what’s the real reason?”

“It’s my Mission.”

“I can make it mine. In fact, I already have. I was hunting evil-doers long before we met. I just don’t have your level of attachment to a particular hunting ground.”

“No.”

“You should know, I’m remarkably persuasive. And persistent. Pig-headed, even. And I have a way with words.”

“I know.”

“Do you really?”

“Ra’s al Ghul decided to keep you as a pet.”

“So obviously, I have experience in wrangling emotionally compromised individuals. At least you don’t want to nuke a city. In fact, you want to save it. As it happens, so do I.”

“No. You are going home to Neptune.”

“Yep, for a while. But then I’m moving to Gotham.”

“Veronica. No.”

“Bruce. Yes.”

“You will get hurt.”

“So will you.” It isn’t a possibility; it’s an inevitability.

“I am aware.”

“Look, Bruce. Going after bad guys? It’s in my blood. Like I said, I was doing it before I met you, and it was always what I was going to do with my life. Although admittedly, before Lilly died, I always thought I’d be a lawyer rather than a crime fighter. I’m not horning in on your Mission. I’m telling you we have the same mission.”

“Hnn.”

“And it’s not just the Bat I’d be helping. I’ve got a few ideas for how I can help Brucie too.”

“Hnn.”

“Besides,” she says innocently, “wouldn’t you rather I hunted evil-doers someplace _you_ could help _me_? So really, me helping you is you helping me.”

A long pause. “Fine.”

She beams. “All righty, then! I’m definitely going to have to spend some time in Neptune to see my dad and hug him every chance I get, have myself declared not-dead, and tell the Kanes _hasta la vista_. Then I can move to Gotham! Maybe enroll at Gotham U, since I promised my dad I would get a degree. Pretty sure I can get credit for the courses I did at Hearst. Can I crash on your couch until I get a place? Apparently, I already have a key.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been to my house—you’ve even stayed there before. There are at least ten unused rooms in the family wing.”

“Ooh, I get to stay in the family wing! I knew you loved me! Spiritual siblings forever! And as your spiritual little sister, I’m dutybound to nag you, inspire you, frustrate you, and help you, but really mostly annoy you.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you gonna make me, Bat Man?” She pauses, tilts her head. Then grins and claps her hands in delight. “That’s it!”

“What?”

“Batman! That’s your superhero name.”

“No.”

“Well, at least the Batman of Gotham is better than The Blur of Metropolis!”

“No.”

“Bet we could even come up with a theme song.”

“No.”

“It could go like, ‘Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na... BATMAN!’”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Hnn.”

She grins. “You know, the day Wallace became my BFF, he took all my snark and frowniness and said, ‘Underneath that angry young woman shell, there's a slightly less angry young woman who's just dying to bake me something. You're a marshmallow, Veronica Mars.’”

“Hnn.”

“And arguably, it’s thanks to you that I sit here, less angry and less young than I was then, even if my current Fight Club look doesn’t make a strong case for it. And I am fully embracing both my angry young woman shell and my inner marshmallow.”

“What. Is. Your. Point.”

“My point is, underneath that angry young man shell… well, you’re a marshmallow, Bruce Wayne.”

“Am not.”

She just grins at him.

“What.”

“You’re going to be so badass.”

“I’m already badass.”

She grins wider. “And we’re going to do so much good, just you wait and see.”

“That’s the Mission.”

She laughs. “Yep! And you know what? We’re going to have so much fun!”

“No.”

“Yes, we are! And maybe when we’ve got things under control in Gotham, we can take a trip and see if we can’t clean up Neptune too.”

“We probably should.”

She gets up, plops herself on his lap, and hugs him.

“What.”

“You said ‘we.’”

He freezes. “Hnn.”

She smiles and moves back into her seat. “Well, that’s my cue to catch some zees, I guess. We’re landing in a few hours, and I’ll have to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed so I can pretend to be a damsel in distress. Good night, Batman.”

He waits until her breathing changes and he’s sure she’s asleep. “Good night, Veronica Mars.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The plan goes without a hitch. For all they have been provided with a mountain of information (probably because Ra’s knows both Bruce and Veronica that well at this point), it’s fairly simple. Pretend to be prisoners, get rescued, go home.

By the time the plane lands, Bruce and Veronica are dressed in tattered clothing, and thanks to a strategic application of ice and balms, some of their injuries look fresher than others. Bruce sports a rather impressively bedraggled-looking beard that has Veronica whooping in laughter when she first sees it.

A familiar-looking Shadow (the accountant-ninja guy) climbs into the plane and checks that they are well-versed in their cover story.

Veronica and Bruce explain the minute changes they’ve decided to make to it, namely Brucie and his brain injury, and the Shadow acknowledges it is a good ruse.

Then it’s time to say goodbye to Shiva. The older woman seems surprised when Veronica hugs her tightly. “I’ll come looking for Susan Wu-San once things settle down,” she promises.

Lady Shiva rattles off an email address, and Veronica smiles and nods. “I’ll come visit you,” she says.

“It has been an honor training you,” Shiva replies. To Bruce, she says, “It has also been an honor to share the duty with you. Do not let her lapse into incompetence.”

“I won’t.” Bruce and Shiva grip each other’s forearms in the friendliest gesture she’s ever seen them make. Then they pull away and bow at each other.

“Aww, Shiva, where’s the faith?” Veronica pouts.

The other woman just shakes her head, smiling a little. “You have been a good pupil, for all you do not have the same love of the physical arts as Bruce or I. Do not allow yourself to become complacent in your skills. You are barely an initiate, and your ability to draw trouble is unparalleled. I shall be shamed if a student of mine were to succumb to an inferior assassin.”

Veronica smiles. “Is that your way of saying you’ll worry about me if I don’t keep training? Don’t worry, Shiva, I won’t. I can’t, if I’m to help Bruce with his Mission in Gotham.”

When they deplane, their escort zip ties their wrists and throws dark sacks over their heads before putting them in the back of a truck.

They are on the road for under an hour when the truck stops and the door is opened. The “captives” are pulled out of the truck none too gently, and they obligingly make a show of belligerence. The guards at the terrorist compound give them a few more bruises for their trouble, but this only adds to the strength of the story they’ll be telling later.

By the time they are escorted into a dank holding cell with a single tiny window high above their heads, they have established their personas for their new (and temporary) wardens. Their Shadow escort, who has been serving as the CIA’s confidential informant on the compound while masquerading as a midlevel thug for the terrorist group, explains the pair’s dynamics for their captors, and the two American captives back him up by demonstrating this as they are brought inside the compound.

Veronica is mouthy and blatantly disrespectful, which becomes obvious when one of the guards has to be restrained after she goads him into attacking her by insulting his mother in broken, American-accented Russian.

Then there is Brucie. He complains loudly and constantly in American English about just about everything. He seems unable to comprehend that the guards are his captors and not his servants. The Shadow warns the new guards not to grow complacent, as Brucie can go from being cheerful to rage-filled at the drop of a hat.

The only person he seems to listen to is Veronica, and he becomes agitated when they are separated, aggressive when the guards are rough with her.

The guards toss Bruce into one cell and Veronica into the other. Then, to their captives’ surprise, they walk out of the room. Only one of the guard stays, but Brucie makes short work of him.

He complains loudly about the guard’s body odor, then proceeds to dry heave. The guard curls up a lip in disgust and leaves, locking the door behind him.

“Thank god! I thought he would never leave. He smelled like three-day-old fish,” Brucie proclaims loudly. All the while, he is inspecting every corner of the room. Apparently satisfied, he signs, _They left us alone. No surveillance. Stupid._

Veronica grins. _Yes, stupid_ , she signs back. Aloud, she says in an exasperated tone, “Bruce, please don’t antagonize our new jailers our first night here. We don’t know how long we’ll be here before they move us again.” _Should we try and see what’s outside this window?_

“Well, I’m not the one who said something in Greek to make one of them attack us,” Bruce says indignantly. _Keep talking_ , he signs as he hoists himself up and uses the wall to keep his balance as he looks out the window. “Although, has anyone ever told you how sexy you look when you’re being mean?”

“It was Russian. Also, how did you know I insulted his mother?”

“You’re cute, even with that black eye. I’d do you, if we didn’t have these bars here. He wouldn’t have slapped you if you hadn’t said something insulting. I’m not stupid, you know.”

_We’re on the second story. Minimal guards on patrol outside. Small town about eight clicks due east._ Their rescuers would have to be astoundingly incompetent to mess up the raid, and in a pinch, they would find it easy enough to escape.

“Course you aren’t, Bruciebear!” Veronica grins when he scowls at the nickname.

“That’s right. I’m a genius, you know. All the schools said so.” His voice is petulant.

Sadly, she says, “And yeah, I saw your records at school. I was looking for you, remember? I know what you scored on the IQ tests.”

“Smarter than Einstein! That’s me. Hey, do you have any food on you?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

“What, you think I stuck a loaf of bread down my cleavage and am pretending it’s a third boob no one noticed when they brought us here?”

“Sure would be interesting to see.” Bruce sniggers.

“Down, boy.”

“I’m older than you are!”

“Only in years.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means?”

“I dunno. I’m hungry.”

“Well, don’t look at me. I don’t have any food on me.”

“Shut up!” their guard yells through the door.

“How are you gonna make us?” Bruce yells back.

The guard starts cursing in Markovian. Since it’s a dialect of Russian, both Bruce and Veronica can understand every word. They hear him hailing someone on his radio to beg off guarding the “bickering idiots.”

Bruce shakes his head at the stupidity of their captors when the guard is reassigned on the basis of “the prisoners aren’t going anywhere.” The guard leaves almost before the man giving him his new orders can finish.

Really, it’s the waiting that is the hardest part. They spend some time meditating. They do pushups and stretches to keep from stiffening up. They review the stories they plan to tell when they are “rescued” and debriefed. They work out a watch schedule so one of them can sleep while the other stays alert and on guard.

But mostly, they wait, entertaining themselves and each other with frequent bouts of sniping and snarking, heckling each other and the guards.

It’s Veronica’s turn at watch when the incursion starts, but she doesn’t even have to wake Bruce to alert him. Their rescuers are fast, stealthy, and efficient. Veronica would be impressed if she hadn’t all this time with the League of Shadows, if she hadn’t been trained by ancient masters and by Bruce and Shiva in the art of infiltration.

It isn’t difficult to look helpless and grateful when their rescuers come into their cells and untie them. Neither of them have had water or food in two days, so Veronica doesn’t even have to fake being a little woozy, staggering a bit when one of the Navy SEALs helps her to her feet.

“Veronica!” There is naked worry in Bruce’s voice. It’s so out of character, it’s then she remembers he’s being Brucie.

“I’m fine,” she says. The man who’s very carefully holding her elbow to steady her offers her a canteen of water, and she drinks gratefully. “Thanks.”

“Ma’am, can you tell me who you are?”

“Veronica Mars, private investigator out of Neptune, California,” she says, and rattles off her social security number. She points at her friends. “And that’s Bruce Wayne, lost billionaire from Gotham. What’s the date today?” He tells her. “I’ve been here almost two years. He’s been here for more than three, and missing for almost seven. Are you getting us out of here?”

“Yes, ma’am, we are.”

Veronica is thankful for her ability to call up tears at a moment’s notice. She does so now with skillful artifice, letting her lips tremble and her eyes fill gradually.

“Hear that, Bruce? We’re going home.”

“I know, Nica. I told you we’d get you home. You owe me ice cream for doubting me.”

She grins. “You bet, Bruciebear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have always wondered why more people wouldn't have wondered at the change in Bruce's personality from traumatic/serious/intelligent child and teenager to his public persona as billionaire playboy, which he uses as a foil and cover for Batman. I've read fics where it's been suggested that drugs fried his brain, and others where it's assumed that Bruce has always used the subterfuge of extroverted rich boy, which doesn't work with this fic.
> 
> Given the cover story Ra's provides Bruce and Veronica, I thought of all the amnesia fics I've read, and how often traumatic brain injury is used as a plot point in both TV/movies and comic books. So I decided Bruce would probably think it a convenient excuse for a cover identity.


	16. Selling the Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Veronica play to their audience, AKA the United States Navy. They are really good actors (and liars, but that goes without saying).

The SEALs and the Markovian special forces cover them as they are led out of the compound and onto a chopper along with one of their guards. Veronica recognizes him as the Shadow who acted as this operation’s confidential informant. They are flown out, not to a naval base, but to an aircraft carrier.

They are ushered into the infirmary, where their assortment of minor injuries are treated. Bruce, still as Brucie, makes a show of being agitated, only settling when Veronica shushes him and takes his hand.

Predictably, the doctors and medics are murmuring words like “PTSD” and “codependency,” and while Veronica regrets the subterfuge, she also knows there is no way their story would be believable if they didn’t exhibit at least some mental health issues. The doctors do not need to know that, for both her and Bruce, those issues had been in place long before they ever left America soil.

They are allowed quick showers, and Veronica puts on a show of convincing Bruce to let her out of his sight for this purpose. Bruce takes the opportunity to remove his false beard and shave the growth of two days in captivity off as well. Once they emerge from the bathrooms dressed in matching jumpsuits, the doctors try to separate them again in order to conduct an examination.

“No doctors,” Bruce says, almost growling. “I don’t like doctors I don’t know.”

He pushes her behind him and makes a show of glaring at the doctors. Hand still in hers, he taps out instructions in a shorthand version of Morse code the League teaches all its initiates.

_You’re the reasonable one. Negotiate for basic exams only._

Veronica immediately adopts a placating attitude. “Brue, they’re not going to hurt us.”

“You don’t know that,” he says stubbornly.

Once again, the doctors share knowing looks.

Veronica sighs again, steps around Bruce’s large body, and pats his arm reassuringly when he visibly tenses. “He hasn’t had the best experiences with our captors’ medics,” she tells them. “And even before he disappeared, he was notoriously unwilling to see doctors unless it was absolutely necessary. What do you need from us, exactly?”

“We need to rewrap your ribs now that you’ve showered,” the chief physician tells her. “That goes for both of you. I’d like to have you both x-rayed, draw your blood to run a few tests, give you some antibiotics as a precaution. I can’t imagine your captors were very conscientious about your nutrition. I’m sure anything more intensive can be done when you arrive home.”

“No needles, no pills,” Bruce barks out.

“He’s not going to compromise on those,” Veronica says with an apologetic expression on her face. “Can I stay in the room when you do his x-rays? And he’ll need to see me while I do mine. If it’s a chest x-ray, I can just strip down to my bra. The one you gave me hasn’t got an underwire, so it shouldn’t interfere with the imaging.”

The doctor agrees reluctantly. “I also wanted to wrap those ribs,” he reminds her.

She nods. “I don’t know if he’ll let you touch him, or me for that matter. But you can give me the rib wraps and we can apply them ourselves or to each other. We’ve done it before. You can supervise if you like.”

It takes an hour as Bruce ramps up his protective act in a way that has Veronica mentally rolling her eyes so hard, she’d probably disconnect her optic nerve if she did it in real life.

Once the doctor releases them, they are debriefed together in a surprisingly comfortable dining room Veronica assumes is the officers’ mess. The Navy makes the effort to make it seem as though it isn’t a debriefing, asking them what they would like to eat.

“Veronica likes pancakes and bacon,” Brucie announces. Never mind that it seems to be late afternoon.

“And what about you, Mr. Wayne?”

“I’ll have what she has... and maybe eggs?” He casts them a hopeful look, almost childlike. Veronica suppresses the urge to smile. “Scrambled eggs? And orange juice?”

“Of course, Mr. Wayne. Ms. Mars, is there anything else?”

“Coffee?” Veronica would kill for a cup.

The officer in charge calls on an ensign and asks for everything the trio have ordered. Then he turns to them and says, “If it’s okay, while we wait for your food, we’d like to ask you how you came to be captured and any details you can share about your captivity. For our report, you know.”

She knows this they aren’t following standard protocol and are making an extra effort to be deferential, but she reads the expressions and meaningful glances shared by the officers who question them and realizes the reason for it.

The Navy is salivating at the idea of publicizing their rescue, which would be media candy even if one of the captives had not been the ninth richest man on the planet. Who has controlling interest in a company that holds a ton of contracts for the US government.

So Veronica takes charge, after Bruce catches her eye and gives her the smallest nod to go ahead.

She delivers her report with all the professionalism she learned from both her dad and her internship at the FBI. But she also knows how to sell a story, and sell it she does.

She is tempted to namedrop both Jake Kane and Clarence Wiedman right from the start, but instead mentions she’s under an NDA and says she can’t name her client without first checking with him. She tells them his involvement is only incidental to her story, and they agree to leave it for now. (Bruce glaring if they seem to push past a certain point helps things along.)

She tells them about her investigation, namedrops high-ranking FBI agents and GCPD’s Jim Gordon as professional references.

She tells them about her abduction and Sandra’s murder, makes a show of feeling guilty about the latter, and then gives them the story they most want to hear—what’s going on with Bruce Wayne.

“Bruce was in the cell next to mine, and we got to talking because we were the only Americans in that place, the first place they kept us. One of the guards told me Bruce used to pick fights with both guards and other prisoners, but after one really bad beating, he had some kind of personality change, seemed less angry. He doesn’t remember the first year or so of his imprisonment very well.”

Bruce shifts in the seat beside her, muttering something the officers obviously can’t make out (Veronica realizes it’s because he’s spouting absolute gibberish). His entire demeanor screams discomfort, so Veronica plays her part and pats his hand. He settles immediately.

“I recognized him and he confirmed who he was, so I told him who I was and what I’d been doing to find him. I’d gotten pretty close with his guardian while I was investigating his case, so I felt like I kinda knew the guy even before we met, you know? Plus, I’d been hired to find him in the first place.”

“By your client, whom you refuse to name,” one of the interviewers clarifies.

“Yes, he’s financially invested in ensuring Bruce’s welfare. Anyway, Bruce and I started looking out for each other as best we could. From what he’s told me and the current date, as best I can figure it, he’s been a prisoner for three, maybe three and a half, years. I was abducted almost two years ago. They’ve mostly kept us together from the start, even when they moved us around.”

Their interviewers are clearly already aware of the circumstances around her “death”—now revealed to be an abduction. “Why is that, Ms. Mars? I imagine you would have been easier to handle if you were separated, especially as sources tell us you two had a reputation for making trouble.”

Veronica smirks. “What, like we were gonna make it easy for them? We did what they wanted until it was clear we weren’t getting rescued or ransomed anytime soon, but the guards seemed to have orders not to do any irreversible harm so we figured they couldn’t kill us, no matter how much they might be tempted to do so.

“And they kept us together because we figured out that if we made even more trouble when we were separated, they would do what we wanted. Most of our captors weren’t very smart and also were quite easy to provoke.”

At this, Bruce bestirs himself to comment. “Veronica’s really good at insulting people,” he says proudly.

Veronica smirks. “So are you, Bruciebear.”

He frowns confusedly. Veronica is grateful she has an excellent poker face, but she is still laughing inside. “No, I don’t insult people. You’re the mean one.”

“Yesterday you told our guard to get out of our cells because he had body odor and it made you want to vomit. Then you actually started to vomit.”

“He was really smelly,” he whines. “And he stood so close.”

“I know.” She pats his arm comfortingly. To their interviewers, she says, “The guards actually left us alone a lot. Like I said, they were pretty stupid.”

“And yet they kept you hostage for over a year, almost two. You didn’t attempt an escape.”

“Well, they had machine guns. Duh. Who do you think we are, Lara Croft and Chuck Norris? I wish. But we’re smart, and we figured out how to manipulate them into doing what we wanted so we stayed safe. Or safer than we would have been apart, anyway. And we didn’t know where we were. Then the past few months, most of our guards have been speaking Russian, so I thought maybe Eastern Europe somewhere.”

“You were extracted from a terrorist base in Markovia,” one of the Navy guys says.

“Ah, good to know.”

They ask Veronica a few more questions, which she answers easily enough. Then they turn to the man sitting beside her.

Who appears to have dozed off.

“Mr. Wayne?” Bruce doesn’t respond. Veronica thinks, if he were less of a professional, he’d have a little fun and overplay his hand by snoring a little. But it’s Bruce, so of course he doesn’t. “Mr. Wayne?”

She pokes him in the side, and he makes a show of startling awake. “’Nica?”

She rolls her eyes at the nickname. “Wake up, _Brue_. The officers want to ask you questions for their report.”

“Is the food here yet?”

Veronica raises her eyebrows at the officers. “It should be here soon,” one of them says. “Are you up to a few questions, Mr. Wayne?”

“I guess. Some of the stuff from before Nica came is kind of fuzzy, though.”

“That’s perfectly okay, and completely understandable. Do you remember how you got captured?”

And Bruce launches into a meandering tale of spur-of-the-moment travel and drunken debauchery. When the interviewers’ attempts to establish a timeline are either ignored or misunderstood, Veronica takes pity on them.

She interrupts a story Bruce is telling about a Bangkok sex club he’d visited, enumerating some of the countries she had traced him to during her investigation without giving away too many details about how she had tracked him. “Eventually, a contact of mine said there was a rumor Bruce was in Tibet, at a school and monastery Sandra had attended.”

“I didn’t go to that school,” Brucie says. “I checked it out and wasn’t into the whole monk thing. So I went to Istanbul after that. Met a girl there and followed her to Morocco.” Veronica knows that this girl is supposedly one of the terrorists. She doesn’t actually exist.

“Do you remember the girl’s name?”

“Um. Tanya, I think? No, Tasha. Yeah, Natasha. She was—” Bruce traces his hands in the air, indicating the shape of a curvaceous woman. “Hot. You know? And she had this move—”

“Bruce,” Veronica scolds him.

He looks abashed. “Sorry, Nica.”

She nods. “Tell the officers what happened in Morocco.”

“Um, yeah.” He rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “Turn out she had a boyfriend. He beat me up in a bar, and then I woke up in jail. Or, well, hostage, I guess. So I did the usual thing.”

“What is the usual thing, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, you know. Told them my name and the number for Wayne Manor. Said to ask for Alfred, but really Alfred’s the only one who answers that phone anyway.”

“And this is ‘usual’?”

He shrugs. “I’ve been kidnapped before. I’m from Gotham, you know, and I have money. It happens. I thought they were gonna ransom me like normal, but nobody asked for proof of life or anything. They just beat me up a lot.”

Frowning, he opens his mouth, looks confused, closes it. Then says, “I don’t really remember all of that. Just that it was a lot, and they moved me a couple of times, but they still beat me up in the new places. Then Veronica came. Things got better after that. We beat people back when they tried to separate us.”

He smiles sweetly and pats Veronica on the head. She rolls her eyes and makes a show of being exasperated for the officers’ benefit.

Then Bruce’s eyes widen, and he sits up straight, suddenly alert. Veronica reacts instinctively, tensing and getting herself ready for defense if need be. The door opens, and three ensigns walk in. Bearing trays. “Food!” Bruce exclaims happily and claps his hands.

Veronica relaxes, rolls her eyes again, smirking at the officers. “If you want to ask him more questions, you will probably have to wait after he’s done eating,” she tells them. “He doesn’t let anything get between him and food.”

The officers laugh good naturedly. “That’s understandable,” the guy who seems to be in charge of the rest of them says. Veronica vaguely remembers him introducing himself as Captain something or other. “I don’t think we have any more questions for now. We’re working on getting you back home, which should happen in another day or two. Some investigators may have questions for you when you’re back stateside, and I’m sure a media liaison will be in touch.”

Bruce appears to be paying the officers no attention whatsoever, apparently intent on watching the platters of food be laid out on the table before them. Veronica knows he is listening to every word, watching everyone.

“Can we call home?” she asks. “My dad needs to know I’m okay. He’s probably been looking for me since the day I got abducted. And Alfred needs to know Bruce is okay too.”

The officers share a look, and Veronica knows it’s because they haven’t disclosed to her that she was supposed to have been killed alongside Sandra. Finally, Captain Something says, “Ms. Mars, did your captors ever tell you any details about your abduction?”

She shakes her head. “No, and I’m still not really sure what they were into, except I’ve heard enough over the past year and a half to know they’re terrorists of some kind.”

The captain looks distinctly uncomfortable. “Ms. Mars, you and Ms. Wu-San were both thought to have been caught by a car bomb. Now we know only Ms. Wu-San perished, but remains were found and presumed to be yours. As far as the world knew, you have been dead for nearly two years.”

Veronica calls on all her acting skills to mimic shock and consternation, lets tears fill her eyes. “So my dad thinks I’m _dead_?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She chews on her bottom lip, making a show of thinking furiously. “And I’m assuming Bruce was declared dead too? Lucius Fox said the Wayne Enterprises board would probably try to do it after he was missing five years. It’s been almost seven.”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” She curses not just because it fits the narrative because now she doesn’t really know where to take this scene. And maybe because it’s hitting her in a way she hasn’t let herself think about, that her dad has thought her dead all these years.

“Veronica?” Bruce has been happily piling food on his plate and hers, but stops to look at her. Veronica is slightly disturbed by how well he plays the eager-to-please puppy. His face shows concern, and the big man pulls her into his arms, sets her on his lap, and starts honest-to-god _petting_ her head and shoulder as if she really is the kitten Ra’s called her. Still, grateful for the save and also aware of how he needs her to act, she hugs him and buries her face into his shoulder while he murmurs comfortingly.

When she relaxes, he pats her twice on her shoulder. Then she feels the tension in his body as he whips around. She pulls away just enough to see he’s glaring at the officers across the table. When he speaks, his voice is ice cold. He is every inch the Prince of Gotham. “What did you say to her?”

“Mr. Wayne—”

“ _What did you say to her?_ ” He doesn’t raise his voice, but each word is bitten out in rage.

Veronica, recovered from her minor emotional meltdown, thinks idly that if Bruce ever needed to switch careers, he’d take Hollywood by storm and probably win a dozen Oscars for his acting. He’d have made Aaron Echolls shit his pants for sure. Still, she knows her part of the script. She pats his shoulder and shushes him.

“I’m okay, Brue,” she says in a gentle tone. She’s decided she likes the nickname. It almost sounds like _bro_. It helps that he doesn’t like it. At all. The officers can’t see that he’s pinched her side in revenge for it. “They told me my dad doesn’t know I’m alive cause those guys who had us faked my death. Messed me up for a bit to think of him grieving all this time, but I’m okay now.”

Slowly, she climbs out of his lap and back into her seat. Bruce keeps glaring at the officers, but turns and picks a strip of bacon off her plate, holds it to her mouth. “Eat,” he says commandingly.

She rolls her eyes at him, takes it from him, then bites off a piece. Apparently satisfied, he starts digging into his food, ignoring the rest of the people in the room.

The captain coughs lightly, so she meets his gaze. He looks apologetic. “Ms. Mars, we will be dispatching officers to inform your next of kin about your rescue within the next hour or two. We would be happy to lend you a satellite phone once this is done. It might not be prudent to shock them by calling them out of the blue before our liaisons can inform them of what has happened.”

She chews thoughtfully, eyes on his. He seems sincere enough. And she already knew that was probably how they would tackle the matter. “Okay,” she says. “But I need to talk to my dad, and Bruce and I both need to talk to Alfred.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

“Thanks.” Veronica isn’t sure what else to say at this point. Then she feels a tap on the shoulder, and she turns.

Bruce points at her plate. “Eat,” he says. He is Bruce again, not Brucie, and it is an order.

She rolls her eyes at him and does as she is told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it doesn’t seem like I make light of mental health issues or neurological injury in this fic. That would never be my intention, especially since I have some experience with it in my personal life, and I cannot apologize enough if anyone feels offended by the subterfuge Bruce decides to undertake.
> 
> Also, I have no doubt whatsoever that Bruce and Veronica are both characters who would really benefit from therapy, but I also recognize that their personalities make them very resistant to the idea.


	17. Missing Billionaire Playboys Are a Thing, Apparently

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes are headed back to the United States. They have an unexpected travel companion who shares a few interesting facts about a couple of other billionaire playboys.

When she finally gets to call her dad, Veronica almost has another breakdown. It’s as if everything she’s been bottling up for the past year and a half has shot to the surface. Her dad is similarly affected, and they both end up blubbering. Bruce sits beside her, a steady, silent, supportive presence.

When her dad becomes incoherent, Alicia Fennel comes on the line. While the older woman is very emotional, she is still able to tell Veronica about what’s happened in her absence. For one thing, she and Keith have moved in together. Her younger son Darrell lives with them, as does Wallace during the summer. He’s graduating in a few months, as is Mac.

Her dad comes back on the line. He and Alicia share more news about people from home. No one mentions the Kanes, and Veronica’s glad, even if she does wonder how Lilly’s doing. She prefers to deal with them personally. No one mentions Logan, either, though. Veronica almost asks, but decides her dad might not be the best source of information on that front.

Eventually they end the call with Veronica promising to update them in a few hours when she knows when she’ll be home—her dad says he’ll fly anywhere to meet her. They promise to have Wallace and Mac come over so she can talk to them as well.

The call to Alfred is just as fraught, though the butler has a better rein on his emotions than Keith Mars does. Still, his voice is shaky when he comes on the line.

“Master Bruce?”

“It’s me, Alfred.”

“Oh thank god, dear boy. Are you all right?”

“Yes, Alfred. I’m okay. It hasn’t been _fun_ , but it could be worse. At least I’m not dead. Except for legally, from what I understand.” Neither Bruce nor Veronica are happy with the necessity of Bruce playing out his new persona with Alfred, but they are both aware the conversation is being monitored. For one thing, the room they’re in has two cameras in plain view.

“Master Bruce.” The older man’s voice is reproachful. However, it isn’t shocked, which means whoever did the notification must have also told him about Bruce’s change in personality. Something shifts in Bruce’s face, subtly, and Veronica loses patience even as she recognizes the need for pretense.

“Give me the phone, Bruciebear, and let me talk to Alfred before you freak him out,” she says, pitching her voice so it can be heard over the speaker.

“Nica?” She holds her hand out for it, and he looks petulant but hands it over.

“He didn’t mean it that way, Alfred. Bruce, I’ll give you the phone back in a sec, just need to explain some things to Alfred so he’s not so worried about you.”

“M-Miss Veronica? They told me you had been found alive, and with Master Bruce, but I hardly dared hope—”

“It’s true, Alfred,” she says, a little ruefully. Thinking fast, she realizes that since the butler knows her investigation had led to the League of Shadows, she might actually be able to reassure him a bit. “I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to say over the phone, but that lead I was investigating after I got that tip off about Tibet turned out to be more than I’d bargained for.”

“Oh, Miss Veronica.” There is genuine regret in his tone.

“Still, Bruce is right about one thing, it could’ve been worse. They were… not as bad as hosts as you might be imagining. Plus, I found Bruce, and we’ve been looking out for each other.”

“I’m glad of it, though I regret the need to do so.” The strength and warmth is back in those British tones, so Veronica is satisfied he at least knows to wait for the full story.

“I’m handing the phone back to Brucie now, okay?”

“All right, Miss Veronica. I very much hope I get to see you soon as well.”

Veronica hand the phone back to Bruce.

“Hi Alfred,” he says, a little sheepishly. “The, uh, navy guys said they’re bringing us back to the States tomorrow, but I’m not sure when exactly or where they’re bringing us.”

“I will inform Lucius and have the Wayne jet on standby, so I will be happy to meet you anywhere, Master Bruce. I am certain Lucius would want to see you as well. And Dr. Thompkins.”

“That’d be great, Alfred.” He glances at Veronica. “Hey, we can fly Veronica’s family out too, right?”

“Bruce—”

“Now, now, Veronica. You know I’m rich as sin. I can fly your dad and his girlfriend and your friends to come see you if I want.”

“You’ve been declared dead, doofus. Right now you don’t have any assets, so at the moment you are not ‘rich as sin.’”

“I’ll take care of it, Master Bruce, Miss Veronica. As it happens, Sheriff Mars and I have kept in contact since Miss Veronica’s disappearance.”

“Thanks, Alfred. You’re the best!”

“It is good of you to notice, Master Bruce.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Apparently, their return is big enough news that Bruce and Veronica will be flown directly to Andrews Air Force Base in Washington DC (“It’s where they keep Air Force One,” one of the naval officers tells them when Bruce asks why they can’t just be “dropped off” in Gotham or Neptune) and met by the Vice President along with several high-ranking officers out of the Pentagon. Evidently they are to walk off the plane and straight into a press conference.

The media, of course, has been invited, and enough information has been leaked that there’s sure to be a massive turnout. Alfred invites Veronica’s family to come to Gotham for a couple of days so they can weather the media storm together; he charters a jet to fly Keith, Mac, and the Fennels over.

Shortly after they get showered and changed (they are lent spare US Navy jumpsuits), Bruce and Veronica are choppered off the aircraft carrier to be transferred to a nearby airbase. There, they are ushered into one of the US Navy’s transport planes for the fourteen-hour flight to Washington DC.

They are the only ones on the plane apart from the flight crew, the escort assigned to them, and a dark-haired woman who claims to be an adjutant from the navy’s public affairs office. Bruce and Veronica recognize her as Nyssa al Ghul.

“I only wanted to congratulate you on your return,” she tells them in a low voice when they are seated away from the others on the pretense of being prepped for the press conference. “My father informed me of the bargain you struck with him, his so-called Gotham Experiment.”

Veronica grins. “Thanks, Nyssa. I was sorry not to be able to say goodbye.”

“Sara and I would have come to visit you after things had settled down, catling.”

“That’s good to know.”

“You’ll also be pleased to know that I have brought a change of clothes for you and Bruce.” She eyes their matching jumpsuits distastefully. “It would not do for you to enact your triumphant return looking like prison inmates or janitorial staff.” She smiles slyly. “Especially as Brucie Wayne seems very much a foppish character.”

Bruce merely grunts.

“I know, right?” Veronica says teasingly. “He’s like an only child version of one of the Kardashians. Or does that make him an Oliver Queen wannabe?”

“Queen was an imbecile and a bully.”

“He was a douche who broke my friend Dinah’s heart. Since we’re speaking ill of the dead.”

Nyssa has a peculiar look on her face. “He…may not actually be dead,” she says finally.

“Are you serious?” Veronica stares at her friend.

She sighs. “Catling, I must swear you to secrecy on this. Bruce too.”

“But—” Veronica is stopped by Nyssa’s stare, dark eyes ice cold and unrelenting. “Fine.” Bruce shrugs and nods as well.

“Sara was on the Queen’s Gambit when it went down.”

“WHAT?” Suddenly several navy men are staring at Veronica. “Sorry,” she says sheepishly. “Just catching up on what’s been going on in the world.”

When they are once more no longer being observed, Bruce asks, “So Oliver Queen is alive? That boat went down…What? Three years ago?”

“Nearly four, but Sara saw him shortly before I made her my protégé,” Nyssa says. “And I have heard tell of him from another Shadow in the time since then, so I believe he is.”

“Do his mother and sister know?”

“I do not believe so.”

Bruce proceeds to ask Nyssa more questions, but she tells him that she does not have the answers he seeks. “Can you help me find them?”

“Why should I? What does it matter?”

Veronica is wondering the same. “How well did you guys know each other? You’re about the same age, right?”

“He is three years older than I am,” Bruce says after a moment. “As I mentioned, he was a bully when I knew him. But his mother was always kind to me.”

“I guess there’s no harm in checking if we can help him get back to his family,” Veronica says thoughtfully. “I could probably use a new case to focus on. Maybe I’ll make it a specialty—finding lost billionaires.” She grins.

“Don’t be cheeky.”

“Aww, Brucie, you like me cheeky.”

“Hnn.”

“I would not have exerted myself for Oliver Queen,” Nyssa says after a while. “But I imagine Sara would like to know what became of him. And I owe Veronica a debt.”

“What? No you don’t.”

“My father’s plan would have had the devastation of Nagasaki or Hiroshima,” the assassin reminds them. “I would have tried to stop him, but it is likely I would have failed. Yet you, catling, persuaded him onto a different course.”

“It was Bruce, not me,” Veronica mutters.

Nyssa’s smile is almost sweet. “It does you credit that you believe you are not responsible. Yet I know the truth, as does the detective. Still, I will look for Queen and send you what information I acquire.”

“Thanks, Nyssa. And maybe get Sara to come see her sister some time? Dinah deserves to know she isn’t dead.”

“Sara told me her sister despises the name Dinah and prefers to go by Laurel.”

“Huh. That’s weird. She introduced herself to me as Dinah. I guess I’ll ask her about it when I see her again.”

“You will not tell her about Sara.” It’s a command.

Veronica shakes her head. “I won’t, but only because I promised. You tell Sara to come and tell her herself.”

“Very well, I shall tell her what you said.” Nyssa pauses. “There is… another matter you might be interested in. Concerning an acquaintance of yours, detective. I presume the name Tony Stark is familiar?”

“It is.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Another billionaire?”

“He had attracted my father’s attention not for his financial status but for his skill in mechanical engineering.”

Bruce’s eyes narrow. “Had?”

“He is alive. A few months after Veronica was brought to Nanda Parbat, there was word one of Stark’s business partners had paid to have him killed during a weapons demonstration for the United States Armed Forces in Afghanistan. My father heard of the plot and took the opportunity to imprison Stark, to use him to create the weapon that would allow the disbursement of a chemical weapon. I am aware you know whereof I speak.”

“We do.”

“God, your dad really needs to find a better hobby,” Veronica moans.

Nyssa’s lips twist in amusement. “You will get no arguments from me on that point,” she says. “Father allowed Stark to escape, the weapon unmade, and I suspect this was what spurred my sister into escalating.”

“Hnn.”

“Stark returned to the United States and subsequently announced that his company would no longer manufacture weapons. Stark Industries appears to be floundering, and Stark remains unaware that the man who conspired against him sits on his board of directors.”

Nyssa pauses, then seems to come to a decision. “He is also under the impression that he was imprisoned by a terrorist group known as the Ten Rings. This is only nominally true. My father has several agents within the group’s leadership, as he does with several organizations across the globe.”

“Why are you telling us all of this?” Veronica wonders. “Not that it isn’t good to know all the pieces of the puzzle.”

“My father has given you seven years, but he has not abandoned his plan completely. I only suggest you monitor those who bear watching. Stark is known for his…volatile personality.”

“What do we owe you for the information?” Bruce asks flatly.

“Nothing. As I have said, I am in Veronica’s debt and I do not support my father’s genocides. I may not have many opportunities to share information with you in the future.”

“Thank you, Nyssa,” Veronica says warmly. “I’d hug you, but someone’s probably watching us.”

“Of that you can be assured.” Nyssa is visibly amused. “Still, I accept the sentiment, and we shall pretend your intention was carried out and returned. Now, the woman whose place I have stolen was emailed some points your navy would like to be aware of for when you speak with the press tomorrow. As I imagine you and Bruce would want to retain good relations with the Pentagon, I will now discuss these with you.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

As they approach the eastern seaboard of the United States, they are encouraged to change into the clothes Nyssa brought. Nyssa also has brought a rather impressive makeup kit, so Veronica is able to downplay the bruises on her face.

“They should still be noticeable, as it would impress the story of your suffering upon the media, but you do not need to look battered in order to make your point,” Nyssa says approvingly.

By the time the plane lands and has taxied to a stop, Bruce is dressed in a heavy black coat over charcoal gray three-piece suit with a crisp white shirt and deep blue tie that sets off his eyes. Veronica is in a teal-colored cashmere turtleneck sweater, dark pants, and calf-high leather boots.

Nyssa hands her a double-breasted black coat with a collar of faux fur. “I saw this and couldn’t resist,” she says slyly as Veronica puts it on.

Bruce snorts. “It looks you’ve draped a tabby cat around your neck.”

Veronica groans. “This ‘kitten’ thing is gonna follow me everywhere, isn’t it?”

“Only among those of us you met through the League.” Nyssa smiles as someone from the flight crew opens the plane door. “It is time for us to part ways,” she says. “Fare thee well, catling. Detective.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Arrow (TV) and Iron Man mentions in this chapter, obviously. The way I’ve got things planned out, Oliver Queen will be a major supporting character in this series, eventually. Tony Stark, I’m still thinking about. I have cameos of him, but not sure if he’ll turn out to be more than a convenient plot device at this point.


	18. A Very Public Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes come home, to much media fanfare. There are many hugs and tears. And a lot of laughter because apparently Bruce and Veronica are media gold.

By the time the plane’s door is opened, Bruce and Veronica’s navy escort, all of whom have changed into more formal uniforms of an honor guard, have surrounded them. One asks Veronica if she needs any help deplaning, but Brucie ruthlessly plays the clingy companion, so they emerge from the airplane side by side.

Veronica finds herself blinking in the February morning light. Even though she and Bruce are still at the top of the stairs, the cameras are clicking madly and the press are calling out questions.

Bruce offers her his arm with a gallant smile, and she takes it with a somewhat nervous smile of her own. It’s with a surreal feeling that they descend the stairs. They ignore the shouted questions from the reporters, who are held back by navy personnel.

Waiting at the bottom is the vice president of the United States. He smiles broadly, a practiced politician, and moves toward them. “Welcome back, Bruce, Veronica!”

Bruce has to let go of Veronica to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Vice President,” he says, his wide Brucie grin in place.

The politician says something about Bruce calling him by his given name, but Veronica barely listens, because suddenly she can see past the VP and his contingent of secret service agents to the balding man who is watching her with a huge smile on his face and tears falling freely down his cheeks.

“Dad!” she exclaims, and rushes forward. She all but launches herself at him, throwing her arms around him in a hug, her eyes filling. “I missed you so much!”

“Me too, kiddo,” he says tearfully holding her tightly. She doesn’t even care that her bruised ribs twinge in protest. “You don’t know how much.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Bruce embracing Alfred, and her smile widens impossibly. But just as she straightens, she is enveloped in another hug. “Supafly!” Wallace says, his eyes watery as well. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“You better believe it, BFF!”

Her father can’t seem to let her go, so it turns into a group hug, one that Mac joins a moment later.

“Hey, there, Mac attack.”

“B-bond, if you ever disappear or d-die on me again, so help me god…”

“Nothin’ doing, Q.” Veronica smiles as she pats the girl’s shoulder. She looks past her friends’ wet yet beaming faces to the woman who is standing just a couple feet away with a teenage boy by her side.

“Alicia,” she says, smiling and stepping forward. She ends up dragging her dad with her because he still isn’t letting go of her. “Thank you for taking care of my dad.”

“We took care of each other, sweetie,” the older woman says, eyes misty as she embraces Veronica. “We all did. We can’t wait for you to come home.” She pulls the boy beside her forward. “You remember Darrell?”

“Of course,” Veronica says smiling. The boy had been a couple inches shorter than she was last time they’d seen each other. Now he was just the slightest bit taller. She folded one arm around him in a soft hug before pulling away. “Who said you were allowed to grow taller than me?” she teases.

The boy smirks. “Everyone grows taller than you.”

She scowls in mock outrage. “Blasphemy!”

“Aww, supafly, you know you’re the perfect size for a walking marshmallow!”

Veronica shakes her head, still smiling. Then she turns toward Bruce just as he is dragging Alfred her way, with Lucius Fox and Leslie Thompkins following behind them.

“Miss Veronica!”

“Hi Alfie,” she says, and throws her arms around him in a hug. “I told you I’d find him for you.”

“You certainly did,” the butler says unsteadily. “Never do that again.”

“Find a lost billionaire?” She smiles, thinking of Oliver Queen. “We’ll see.” She peers around him, smiles and waves. “Hi, Lucius, Dr. Leslie. Long time no see.”

He shakes his head, but smiles broadly. “I’m very happy to see you alive and well, Veronica.”

“It’ll take more than terrorists to take down a Mars!”

Bruce rolls his eyes at her, then turns his attention to her family. “Mr. Mars,” he says to Keith. His smile isn’t quite as wide as Brucie’s, but it’s genuine. “Veronica has told me so much about you. I wouldn’t have made it back without her.”

“Mr. Wayne,” Keith says steadily. “I can’t say I approve of the way you got my daughter tangled into your troubles, but no one deserves to go through what you did. Welcome back.”

“Daaad!” Veronica scolds. “Bruce saved my life more than once. I wouldn’t have made it back without him either. So be nice. I’ve decided to adopt him.”

He hugs her tightly. “Sorry, sweetie.” He holds out a hand to Bruce, and when the younger man takes it, folds him into a hug. “Thank you for helping my daughter come back to me, Mr. Wayne.”

“It was the least I could do, Mr. Mars. And please, call me Bruce.”

“Bruce, come meet the rest of my family,” Veronica says, smiling. “This is Alicia Fennel, momma extraordinaire.”

Bruce bends over the older woman’s hand and kisses it gallantly. “It’s an honor, Mrs. Fennel.”

Alicia’s cheeks pinken and she smiles. “Welcome home, Mr. Wayne.”

“Bruce, please.”

Veronica rolls her eyes at the suaveness of his act. “Now, Bruce Wayne, meet Wallace Fennel, my brotha-from-anotha-motha and BFF, and Mac Mackenzie, my best gal pal and hacker queen. Finally, there’s Darrell Fennel, Wallace’s little brother and hopefully soon to be mine as well.”

“Veronica!” Keith and Alicia both exclaim, red in the face.

“Carpe diem, dad of mine! I ship Kelicia, and I’m totally gonna be pushing for it.”

The clearing of a throat from behind the group has them all turning to see the vice president, who regretfully reminds them that there’s a press conference to be conducted, so they all recollect their dignity as best they can and follow him to the small stage and podium that’s been set up right on the tarmac.

The navy’s chief of information delivers the salient points of the rescue operation to the press, then the vice president takes the podium, speaking of the bravery and tireless work of the intelligence agents and Navy SEALs who carried out the extraction. He makes sure to mention the Markovian special forces and issue a few platitudes about international cooperation. Then he smiles broadly as he calls Bruce and Veronica to the podium.

“Thank you, Mr. Vice President,” Bruce says smoothly. “Veronica and I would like to thank everyone who had a hand in getting us home, from the agents who found where we were in the first place to the soldiers who came in and got us out of there.”

“And the doctors and officers of the navy, who patched us up, fed us, and took care of us,” Veronica adds. “We’re very glad to be back home, and we can’t say enough how much it means to us to see our families again.”

When the vice president opens up the floor to a few questions, pandemonium erupts. The navy chief of information points to a reporter.

“Mr. Wayne, Vicki Vale from the _Gotham Gazette_. First of all, welcome back! Can you tell us where you have been all these years? It was mentioned you were captive for over three years, but it’s been almost seven since you disappeared from Gotham.”

Brucie takes a moment to leer at the reporter, who is admittedly a very attractive woman. “Well, Vicki—can I call you Vicki?—I was a little overwhelmed when I left Gotham, so I guess you could say I took a sabbatical and went to find myself. I traveled around a lot, mostly through Europe and Asia, although I was in Morocco when I was kidnapped.”

“Ms. Mars, Clark Kent from the _Daily Planet_. You were believed to have died in a car bombing in Detroit just under two years ago. Can you tell us how you ended up in a terrorist compound in Markovia, and with Mr. Wayne at that?”

Veronica narrows her eyes at the large bespectacled man who posed the question. She knows her name had not been released to the press prior to her disembarkation from the plane, so either he is familiar with her case or has very good informants.

“Thank you, Mr. Kent. I’m surprised you’re so familiar with my case. I had actually been working Bruce’s missing persons case for a year prior to my abduction. I had been chasing down several leads at that point, and one avenue I explored led me straight into the hands of Bruce’s kidnappers. When I survived the attempt they made on my life, they decided to take me hostage as well.

“I’m sorry to say that the woman I was meeting at the time of their attack was also a victim of the same group, and my heart goes out to her family.”

“Ms. Mars, Lois Lane from the _Daily Planet_ , following up for my colleague. Although the 50-million-dollar Wayne Bounty was rescinded almost two years ago following Mr. Wayne’s declaration of death in absentia, will you be receiving a reward from the Waynes?”

“I don’t—”

“Yes,” Bruce interrupts. “She will be receiving the full amount.”

Veronica steps away from the mic. “Bruce—”

“We already talked about this, Nica,” he warns, his voice light and “Brucie,” even though his eyes are hard and 100-percent Bruce. He turns back to the mic. “Alfred Pennyworth, who was my guardian after the death of my parents, told Veronica he was satisfied with the progress of her investigation before her abduction. I’ll stand by his judgment.” He smiles widely. “That is, once I regain control of my assets. I’m told I’m currently broke since I’m still legally dead.”

The gathering of reporters laughs.

“Bruce, Veronica, Cat Grant from CatCo Worldwide Media.” The blonde media tycoon and award-winning reporter smiles coyly. “Can you tell us about your relationship, after having been held prisoner together for nearly two years? After all, you’re both young, attractive, and, I’m assuming, single. Are you an item now?”

Bruce puts a hand over his heart in a dramatic gesture. “Ms. Grant, I would marry her in a heartbeat!” Seeing Veronica’s glare, he grins unrepentantly. “I mean, Veronica has saved my life more than once, she’s a strong, brilliant woman, _and_ my butler likes her! But alas, she won’t have me.”

Veronica punches him in the gut, putting more strength into the move than can be seen on camera. Although it hurts her more than it does him because seriously, the guy’s abs are rock-hard. Nevertheless, Bruce whines and doubles over in a way that is goofy and completely unconvincing.

“Be serious, Brue,” she scolds. The mic captures her exasperation and amusement clearly.

“I am! I totally am! Alfred, tell her how much you want her to be mistress of Wayne Manor!”

“Already given her the key, Master Wayne!” the butler calls out gamely.

She rolls her eyes. To the press, she shakes her head and says, “Serious answer? Over the past several months, Bruce and I have been joking about adopting each other as siblings, and I think that’s the best way to describe our relationship. We’ve been through a lot together, taken beatings for each other, propped each other up through some bad moments. You don’t go through the stuff we did without learning to love each other a lot. However—” She laughs. “However, at this point, I think we know each other too well to work out romantically.”

Bruce slings an arm around her neck and ruffles her hair, grinning goofily. “What she means is we both know she’s too good for me.” Everyone laughs.

“Also, I just met her dad, and he’s one scary mofo who’s an honest-to-god sheriff with, you know, guns and everything, so I can’t even try to seduce her into changing her mind.” Bruce turns to look toward the back of the stage where Keith is standing and holds his hands up in the air like he’s surrendering under threat of fire. “Not that I would, Mr. Mars, sir!” More laughter. 

“Shut up before he really does shoot you, you idiot,” Veronica tells him. She hears someone actually guffaw.

Bruce spreads his arms wide. “And that, my friends, is how you get expertly and thoroughly friend zoned.” The crowd is all but rolling in the aisles at this point.

“Last question,” the US Navy chief of information calls out when the chuckles have died down.

“Ms. Mars, Mr. Wayne, Iris West from _Central City Picture News_. What are your plans now that you’re back home?”

Veronica grins. “You mean besides get legally un-dead?”

“I’m totally throwing a zombie-and-vampire-themed party for us, Nica!” Brucie says, laughing.

She shakes her head at him. “Answer Ms. West’s question, Brucie.”

“You first.”

She shrugs and relents. “Honestly, the absolute first thing on my list is a long, hot shower. But for real? I’m going to go home, reconnect with my family and friends, plan out the rest of my life. I promised my dad I’d get a degree, so I know I’m going to start applying to a couple of colleges and universities.”

“Well, damn, ‘Nica, now I have to be serious.” Bruce sighs, then sobers. “Truthfully, one of the things Veronica and I have discussed—you won’t believe how much time you have to talk when you’re stuck in a cell all day—is my home city, Gotham.

“In the past two years, I’ve learned a lot from her about my home from someone from sunny California, of all places. That it’s the city with the highest crime rates in the country, and the lowest literacy. But also that there are still people fighting the good fight, even in the heart of Crime Alley.

“My parents had a vision for the future of the city, one they hoped to realize with the help of Wayne Enterprises and the Wayne Foundation. I haven’t been a good son in the years since I lost them. But if this is my second chance, then I’m going to see what I can do to shine a little light on the darkest streets, with some help from my friends and the good people of Gotham, of course!”

Bruce is smiling and all but glowing with simple sincerity by the time he finishes speaking.

There is absolute silence from the press. Then someone begins to clap—Veronica thinks it might be that _Daily Planet_ reporter Clark Kent. Suddenly, the entire group has erupted in thunderous applause, even the vice president.

The navy media man calls an end to the session, saying Bruce and Veronica would need to rest and recover from their ordeal and have a proper reunion with their families. The vice president makes a big show of shaking their hands and embracing them. “You were both absolutely fantastic,” he tells them. “And Bruce, if there’s anything I can do to help you in Gotham, please give me a call.”

“Thank you, Mr. Vice President. I don’t know what needs doing yet, with how long I’ve been gone, but I know we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

They spend the next ten minutes posing for photos, then the Wayne and Mars parties were escorted toward two large Wayne Enterprises helicopters, which had given special permission to land at the air force base for this event.

As he helped Veronica into the first helicopter, Bruce bent down so his mouth was by her ear. “That was perfect, Veronica. Thank you.”

“No problem, Bruce.”

Once seated and strapped in, Veronica sat between her dad and Wallace. They each took one of her hands in theirs. Holding tightly to each other, they sat that way the entire 80-minute ride to Wayne Manor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I hadn’t planned to include the press conference scene in this fic and end the story with an emotional reunion and some foreshadowing for the continuing adventures of Veronica Mars and the Batman. 
> 
> But I had all these scenes I’d written as outtakes, which I’d thought to compile into a kind of outtake anthology. I was telling a friend about them, though, and she said, “If they’re fun, why not leave them in? You put your characters through a lot of stress. You should reward your readers with fun and fluff.”
> 
> So that’s what I’ve decided to do. But if you’re only here for the action and don’t plan to read other stuff I eventually publish for this series, know that I initially had meant to end the fic with the scene on the tarmac. However, if you don’t mind sitting back for non-plot-essential fun… like, seriously, I have like 10 more chapters of this, including a couple of Logan-heavy ones.


	19. Fathers and Their Prodigal Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica and her dad share a moment of fluff and comfort. Alfred needs very little explained to him because he’s the BAMF that raised the Batman, even if Bruce isn’t technically Batman yet.

Upon their arrival in Wayne Manor, Alfred launches into hyper-efficiency mode. As everyone who had come to greet the pair had assembled here earlier before flying out to Washington DC, there was no need to show people to their rooms.

Alfred assures Bruce and Veronica that their respective rooms were just as they had left them.

“I’ll walk you to your room,” Keith offers.

“I know where it is, Dad.”

“Maybe I just want to?” Her dad does a pretty effective impression of a puppy dog when he uses them, and Veronica gets the full treatment of soft eyes and hopeful expression. She realizes he hasn’t been farther than five feet of her since that first hug on the tarmac.

“Okay, Dad.”

“Mac and I packed a bag of your old clothes and brought it over from Neptune, Veronica,” Alicia says. “Alfred put it in your room when we arrived.”

“Thanks, guys,” Veronica says with a smile.

“Go ahead and take that shower you were talking about, Bond,” Mac tells Veronica with a smile.

“All right,” Veronica says, grinning. “Don’t expect me back for a while. I’m going to stand in it until I’m all wrinkly.”

“Go for it.”

“I can’t believe you never told me you’d pretty much made Wayne Manor your home away from home whenever you were in Gotham,” Keith says as they walk up the grand staircase.

“Alfred didn’t like me staying in the city whenever I chased down a lead here,” she says absently. “And I guess it was just easier to do up the same guest room every time.”

Keith stops at the top of the staircase. Veronica turns to him, eyebrows raised. “Your room isn’t a guest room, sweetie.”

Frowning, she asks, “What do you mean?”

“Alicia and I, Wallace, Mac and Darrell all have rooms in what Alfred called the guest wing of the manor.” He waves a hand in one direction. “It’s that way. Your room is this way.” He waves in the other direction. “In the family wing.”

She shrugs. “It was probably the only wing that wasn’t shut up before Bruce came home,” she says. “I remember a lot of the rooms I wandered into had all the furniture in dust covers. I don’t think it means anything.”

“If you say so, honey.”

When they get to her bedroom door, her dad engulfs her in yet another bear hug and kissing her temple fervently. She realizes he’s shaking, so she leads him into her room and sits him down on the couch on one side of the room. “Shh, Dad, it’s okay, I’m here,” she says, hugging him tightly.

“You don’t know,” he says hollowly. “You don’t know what it means to me to have you be alive after all this time.”

She pulls back so she can see his face, wipes his tears with her thumbs. “I was always going to come back to you,” she tells him.

“I—I didn’t look for you,” he whispers, grief and guilt naked on his face. “All I could do was try to find out who killed you, and it looked like it was a contact of that woman’s, Sandra Wu-San. I tracked him down, but he was already dead by the time I got to him. I didn’t even find a hint of those terrorists.”

She smiles reassuringly. “I’m glad you didn’t, Dad. The moment I woke up in that cell, I thought about you. Then when I found out what kind of bad guys had me, I was scared you’d find something that led you to them and they’d kill you like they did Sandra. Or worse.”

“I wouldn’t have cared, if I could have gotten you home.”

“I would’ve, though. And I’m home now, so everything is fine. I never got seriously hurt.” She mentally crosses her fingers at that last bit, thinking about how it felt to have that blade slide between her ribs, about Bruce’s voice as he tried to keep her from passing out, about sinking into the Lazarus Pit.

“Veronica, how bad was it?” her dad asks hesitantly, his voice gentle yet with an underlying fragility, like he’s almost afraid she’ll tell him. He raises a hand, feathers his fingertips around the black eye just barely visible under her makeup. “Did they… did they hurt you very badly?” He draws a harsh breath. “I haven’t been able to sleep since that officer knocked on my door and told me you’d been a hostage all this time.”

She realizes he thinks she was tortured or raped during her time away. “No, Dad, I’m fine,” she says, keeping her expression completely open, letting him see she means it. “I met Bruce the night I woke up in that cell, and he kind of took responsibility for me, even when he didn’t want to. He’s been really great. I meant what I said earlier. He’s basically my big brother now.”

A war of emotion is playing out on Keith Mars’s face. Hope because he wants to believe her so desperately. Guilt because he still can’t believe he never even considered she might still be alive. Love because he recognizes she’s trying to comfort and protect him. Anger because he doesn’t think he deserves her protection after he failed to protect her. Jealousy because some other man had done what he couldn’t.

“Dad,” Veronica chides with just a hint of exasperation. “I really am okay. I maybe got banged up a bit, but it was mostly just bruises that went away.” She fingers her black eye and smiles a little. “This one will too.”

He searches her face for another long minute, then finally nods. “Okay, baby,” he says. “I guess I really had better accept Bruce into the family, if you’ve decided to adopt him. And I like Alfred.”

She rolls her eyes. “Everyone likes Alfred,” she says. “Wait until you try his cooking. Then you’ll _love_ him.”

Keith smirks. “I _have_ tried his cooking.” He pauses. “He’s was a good friend, after I thought I lost you.” He takes a deep breath, then stands up. Veronica stands with him. “I’ll let you go take that shower now, then I imagine you’ll want to rest. I guess I’ll take a nap myself. Alfred said to tell you lunch is in an hour and a half and will be casual. Though that still means at least jeans and a t-shirt, not pajamas.”

Veronica grins. “Same old Alfred, then.” She walks her dad to the door, lets him give her another hug. “I’ll see you at lunch, Dad.”

“Come find me if you need anything,” he tells her. “Alicia and I are on the first door on the left when you enter the guest wing. Darrell is in the room just past ours, and Mac and Wallace are across the hall.” He shakes his head. “This house must have at least a dozen rooms.”

“Two dozen, I think Alfred told me once.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “There’s an intercom in my room, but I haven’t figured it out yet. I’ll ask Alfred later.”

She nods. “I know how to reach the kitchen and Alfred’s quarters, but I’m pretty sure there’d be some kind of code for each of the guest rooms.”

“All right. Rest well, sweetie.”

Once he’s gone, Veronica wastes no time in heading toward the enormous en suite bathroom to strip and shower. Veronica has been dreaming about the shower in “her” room at Wayne Manor since her first night in Nanda Parbat.

Given how long she’s been anticipating, she decides the half hour she spends in the steam shower (complete with rainfall shower and acupressure body jets) is close to the top of her list of best experiences ever. Not quite hot-sex-with-Logan-Echolls level, but pretty darned close.

Clad in a fluffy bathrobe, she goes to the walk-in closet, where she knows Alfred has deposited the bag Mac and Alicia packed for her. It’s actually a medium-sized suitcase. She makes a mental note to ask her dad how many days they are staying in Gotham before returning to Neptune as she unpacks her clothes.

Apart from toiletries and underwear, there are a couple of pairs of jeans, an assortment of t-shirts, and even a few dresses along with a pair of beat-up Converse sneakers, low-heeled leather boots, and a well-worn green hoodie.

The last item in the suitcase is a familiar-looking studded black leather jacket, the one Logan gave her the Christmas before she was abducted. She remembers being annoyed that she had forgotten to pack it when she’d gone to Detroit. Now she’s glad she did.

Ten minutes later, Veronica is dressed in jeans, a white statement t-shirt that reads “I am fluent in sarcasm but don’t speak idiot,” and sneakers. Despite her father’s urgings to rest, she isn’t tired; the plane ride had taken so long, she’d gotten quite a bit of sleep. So she steps out of her room just as Alfred approaches.

“Ah, Miss Veronica, I was just coming to check if you needed anything.”

“I’m fine, Alfred,” she smiles. “Did you need any help with prepping for lunch?”

“No, Miss Alicia demanded I let her take charge of luncheon as I insisted on preparing breakfast before we left earlier, and she has things well in hand. I just wanted to check on you and Master Bruce.”

“Oh, great, I was going to look for him.”

As it turns out, Bruce’s room is right next to hers. It’s like being in the League all over again, except a thousand times more luxurious. “Come in, Alfred,” Bruce says when the butler taps on the door.

He is seated at a desk on one side of his room, which sports a darker, much more masculine design than her own. He turns away from the computer he’s working on when Alfred and Veronica enter. “Nice shirt,” he tells Veronica.

“I have an extensive collection of snarky t-shirts,” she tells him proudly.

“It is a shame you didn’t have any of them in Nanda Parbat. You may not have had to open your mouth to persuade Ra’s to spare your life.”

“Yes, well, ‘the flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.’”

“Proverb?”

“Quote from _Mulan_.”

Bruce grunts.

“Master Bruce, I only wanted to check if there was anything you needed.”

“Just a moment of your time,” Bruce says. “I wanted to explain some of what happened to Veronica and me. We were not honest in our debriefing with the military.”

“I gathered as much, sir.”

Bruce rises and indicates to the armchairs and couch on one side of the room. “Let’s get comfortable, shall we?”

“As you wish, Master Bruce.”

Veronica curls up on one side of the couch while the two men take an armchair each. “I can probably start,” she says, then proceeds to give Alfred a rundown of everything that happened beginning with her arrival in Detroit, but leaving out details that violate her initiate’s oath to the League of Shadows and Bruce’s specific plans for his Mission. She knows he plans to tell Alfred the truth himself.

At one point, Bruce wanders over to a cabinet, opens it to reveal a refrigerator, and pulls out drinks for them—water for himself and Alfred and a S’kist for Veronica. She smiles when he hands her the bottle; she had spent quite a lot of time bemoaning the absence of sugary orange drinks those first few months in Nanda Parbat.

“So we basically went to Markovia for the sake of our cover story, which you know.”

“I’m pleased to learn the report of your traumatic brain injury is inaccurate, Master Bruce,” Alfred says. “I can only assume this is a ruse to disguise your pursuit of justice as a masked vigilante.”

At Veronica’s and Bruce’s shocked looks, the butler smiles thinly. “You did not have to say anything. I have known you since you were born. I imagine your plan to save Gotham’s from both Ra’s al Ghul and itself extends beyond legitimate activities by Wayne Enterprises and the Wayne Foundation.”

So Bruce briefly outlines his Mission, his plans for the Bat, and Veronica’s offer of assistance.

“It seems a sound plan,” the butler says finally. “And I am glad you have accepted Miss Veronica’s help, although I imagine her father will not be pleased to learn about her move to Gotham.”

“It won’t be right away. I was thinking I would enroll in a few summer classes in Gotham University. If I move here in May after Wallace and Mac graduate, that should give me three months of daddy-daughter time to reassure him. Plus, I’ll come home to visit, of course.”

“I assume you will not be informing the sheriff of your extracurricular activities.”

Veronica shakes her head. “I’m pretty sure I’m still about five years old in his heart, if not his head. And I don’t want him to know anything about the League of Shadows. It’s safer for him that way. Apart from you, the only ones who knew I was looking into Nanda Parbat before I was abducted were Mycroft Holmes, Jake Kane and Clarence Wiedman.”

“I doubt Mycroft will be a problem,” Alfred says. “He probably won’t even ask, outside of determining what new skill sets you might have acquired.”

“Agreed.”

“C.W. will follow Jake Kane’s lead,” Veronica says. “So the only question is how to deal with Jake.”

“Jake won’t be a problem.”

Veronica narrows her eyes at Bruce. “How do you know that?”

“He had Wiedman looking into your abduction, offered your father resources for the investigation into your supposed murder. Ra’s sent Shiva to tell him to drop the matter.”

“Really? And he didn’t just have him killed?”

“It would only have served to fuel your father’s suspicions if Jake Kane had died shortly after you had. However, a threat of Shiva’s return secured Jake’s silence easily enough.”

“So when the news is out that I’m back, he’ll know I was with the League and so were you,” Veronica says slowly. “Which means he might be able to guess at Batman’s identity.”

“Hnn. It’s a minimal risk. He is a coward and easily frightened into submission.”

“Actually,” she says, “him knowing we were with the League might work better for us. It brings me to some of the ideas I had about your Brucie cover.” When he just raises an eyebrow, she pushes on. “Well, I was thinking about how the best lies are always the ones that have a lot of truth to them. And how any investigator knows it’s always a good idea to follow the money. It’s how I found you, after all.”

“Hnn.” Bruce had not been happy knowing Mac had bypassed his safeguards, even allowing the manipulations Ra’s must have ordered to ensure his trail would be partially uncovered. He had sought additional training with the League’s hackers shortly after Veronica had been brought to Nanda Parbat.

“Anyway, I’ve learned enough about strategic resource allocation from you and Ra’s to have some idea of what you have planned for funding the Bat. As we’ve discussed before, it’s sure to be expensive, even if you appropriate WayneTech prototypes. Which might be difficult without Lucius’s help.”

“We will not inform Lucius unless it becomes absolutely necessary,” Bruce says. It is an old argument of theirs.

“Fine,” Veronica huffs. “Anyway, my point is, we need a cover story for your cover persona. Multilevel misdirection. Brucie Wayne is a great cover persona, but we all know even the best covers can be compromised, especially after prolonged maintenance. While you do the flighty, volatile act very well, but you are neither of those things, and you and I both know people like Lightman and the Holmes brothers, who will see through your act in a Peloponnesian minute.”

At Bruce’s pronouncement that he has a few contingency plans in mind for scenarios where his civilian identity is discovered, Veronica smiles. “Of course you do. I imagine one of them will be running Wayne Enterprises in secret while keeping Lucius as the CEO. I suppose you even have extreme plans to fake your death. But one of those contingency plans must be the Bat himself.”

“Explain.”

“If someone figures out Brucie is a façade, then the most important thing is to give him a reason for maintaining it. The reason, as we know, is the Bat. But people don’t have to know it’s because the Bat and Bruce Wayne are the same person. Bruce has money, and your passion for Gotham will be well-known after that speech today. It makes sense for him to bankroll someone like the Bat.”

“This is a good plan.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Of course it is. You could probably even make a case for Brucie bankrolling the Bat because he wants to have a fallback in case his personal security isn’t up to the task of keeping him safe. If you have to disappear for a while, it’ll can be because the Bat whisked you off to a safehouse or whatever. It’s easy enough to fake a death threat. And what with how publicized our capture and rescue are, people won’t question why you’re paranoid about security.”

“It’s true, sir. The officer who came to notify me of your rescue took pains to explain your anxiety at being separated from Miss Veronica. They even recommended several Gotham-based psychotherapists to assist you with your return to society.”

“On the subject of Jake Kane,” Veronica says, “it would also be easy to correlate your involvement with the League with your plans for Gotham. The only people who know about your deal with Ra’s are in this room or high-ranked members of the League of Shadows. So I say we use the League’s terrible and mythic reputation against it.”

Veronica smiles evilly. “I’m pretty sure all I have to say to Jake is that Ra’s has plans for Gotham and that ignorance and non-interference would be healthier for him. If anyone ties us to the League and then to the Bat later on, we just make it clear that you are a key player in the Demon’s Gotham Experiment. Provisioning the Bat is part of that, but that’s no one else’s business but ours and Ra’s’.” Her smile turns sharp and toothy. “If anyone has the balls to ask Ra’s, he’ll probably confirm it or be all mysterious.”

Bruce looks thoughtful. “All Jake cares about is his own position and wealth. My plans will require the success of Wayne Enterprises and any of my businesses he is involved with, so keeping silent will be in his own best interests as well.”

“Exactly.” Veronica nods. “So we offer him both the carrot and the stick. And if he doesn’t figure out what’s good for him, I’m happy enough to explain.” She smiles impishly. “Do you think he’d shit his pants if I offered to introduce him to Ra’s or Shiva?”

“It does seem fitting to use the Sword of Damocles Ra’s al Ghul has hanging above our heads to poke at the likes of Jake Kane and others who might have notions of using or blackmailing you with your secrets,” Alfred observes.

Bruce smirks. “Are you certain you didn’t take lessons in being an evil mastermind from Ra’s, little cat?”

“Of course I did. But I also took lessons in using my evil powers for good from the Batman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talky-telly part at the end of this chapter, I know, but Bruce is so famous for being the one with all the plans, I wanted to show Veronica can do the Slytherin thing just as well as he can. Also, if you're wondering why Bruce and Alfred don't have a mushy moment... Remember that Bruce is kind of a mushroom when it comes to that kind of stuff. There WILL be a nice Alfred & Bruce moment later, though.


	20. Celebrity Status

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the whole world ships Brunica—except Bruce and Veronica. Or actually, Brucie kind of ships it, but mostly because he thinks it’s funny. Also, we find out what happened to Logan.

“#Brunica is trending on Twitter,” Mac says when they all sit down to lunch.

“What’s that?” Brucie asks.

“It’s your and Veronica’s couple name,” Darrell pipes in helpfully. “Like Brangelina or Bennifer.”

“Were we not clear about our platonic friendship status?” Veronica asks, frustrated.

“Oh you were, supafly,” Wallace says cheerfully. “It’s just that no one believes you. You guys are so cute together, people are cooing about Brunica all over the damn internet.”

“The timing doesn’t help, either,” Mac comments. At Veronica’s confused look, she smirks. “It’s February 15th today. You were rescued on the morning of Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh god.”

“Just think of how much fun we could have with this, Nica!” Brucie is grinning. “I should sign up for Twitter.”

“I’ve taken the liberty of compiling a list of well-known media strategists to discuss how we should handle the publicity surrounding your return, Mr. Wayne,” Lucius says. “It would be best if you had someone dedicated to your personal PR who could then coordinate with the media liaisons from WE and the Wayne Foundation. Veronica will likely need to work with whoever you hire as well.”

“Sounds good, Lucius. Pick the best one and have them come to the Manor this afternoon. Around four, I guess? Alfred says the press is already camped outside. Oh, and can you get our lawyers to work on the whole un-dead thing for Nica and me?”

“They are preparing the paperwork as we speak, Mr. Wayne.”

“Cool. And can we schedule meetings with the board of both Wayne Enterprises and the Wayne Foundation? Tomorrow should be good.”

“Of course, Mr. Wayne.”

“Bruce, it sounds like you’re about ready to jump into things, but I’d like to have you and Veronica come in for full physical examinations,” Dr. Leslie Thompkins says.

Bruce and Veronica exchange glances. They will need to be careful about their medical records.

“What for? The navy doctors checked us out and said we were good to go.” Brucie gives the doctor a confused look.

“They likely did only an initial examination,” she says.

“I would feel better if you got checked out as well, honey,” Keith adds. “We’ll be here until next weekend, anyway.” It’s Monday.

“Fine,” Bruce says. “But only if Veronica and I come in together. And only if you conduct the tests yourself, Leslie.”

She frowns. “Bruce, I’m a general practitioner. I have a barrage of specialized tests in mind as well as the general examinations. Especially considering we were told you’d suffered a brain injury some time back. I’d be happy to personally select the specialists who—”

“I’m not getting examined by doctors I don’t know,” Bruce says coldly. He flicks an eye toward Veronica, and she realizes he expects her to help him with his “Brucie” act. “And you’re the only doctor I know.”

She leans over to pat his hand. “She’s only trying to help, Brue.” To the older woman, she says, “I’m sorry, Dr. Leslie. Bruce _really_ doesn’t like doctors. Strange doctors, I mean.”

Leslie pales. Veronica regretfully allows her to make her own (mistaken) assumptions about why Bruce wouldn’t like doctors. “I… Very well, Bruce. I’ll make all the arrangements. May I schedule the exams to begin the day after tomorrow at Gotham General? I would need you to clear your schedule for two days.”

Bruce looks irritated. “Fine, Leslie. As long as we’re done before my party.” He grins, bright and cheerful as if he hasn’t just snapped at his parents’ closest friend. “If yesterday was Valentine’s, that means my birthday is in four days! And I promised Nica a zombie party!” He turns to the Mars group. “You guys are staying until then, right?”

“We talked things over with Alfred and agreed to stay for a week,” Keith says. “Although we didn’t come prepared for a costume party.”

Alfred sighs. “I will make the arrangements, Master Bruce. Including costumes for everyone, if I cannot dissuade you from your rather poor taste in themes.”

“You’re a champ, Alfred!” He turns to Mac. “So what else are people saying about Nica and me?”

Mac grins. “I’ll grab my laptop after lunch and show you guys.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The rest of the meal is spent catching people up on some news about what’s been going on in the world in Bruce and Veronica’s absence.

Veronica is sad to learn that her dad closed up Mars Investigations shortly after her “death,” but pleased to learn some of her friends, such as Dinah Lance and Penelope Garcia, have continued to keep in contact with him. Eli “Weevil” Navarro has also been a surprising source of comfort.

Keith tells her he sent her friends messages telling them about her return just before her arrival in Washington DC. She tells him she will contact them just as soon as she gets a new phone.

“Hey, Q,” Veronica says, “can we go tech shopping tomorrow? I’m gonna need a new laptop and phone.”

“No, you don’t,” Lucius says. “I brought a couple of the newest WEBook and WEPhone with me when I drove over this morning. I’ll get them from my car for you before I leave.”

“Thanks, Lucius,” Bruce says.

“Lucius, you didn’t have to—”

“You will accept the computer and phone, Nica,” Bruce orders.

Veronica scowls. “I’m perfectly capable of buying my own gadgets.”

“One,” Bruce says blithely, holding up a single finger. “You just asked your friend Mac to help you shop for them. And two.” He holds up a second finger. “We are both currently without funds due to our unfortunate status as legally dead. Finally, three—” another finger “—if Lucius hadn’t brought something over, I would have sent Alfred to buy them for you.”

“Bruce, remember when I said you didn’t have to buy me any stuff?” Veronica asks in a scolding tone.

“Veronica, remember when you were looking for me and got abducted by a terrorist group and held captive for two years for your trouble?” He mimics her tone exactly.

There’s a moment of absolute silence because he _went_ there and dared to joke about it. Then Mac snorts and erupts into giggles. “I totally get why you’re friends now,” she gasps out. “You’re like, exactly the same. The only thing Bruce needs is a collection of statement t-shirts and a fondness for carrying tasers.”

“Alfred would kill me if he started wearing statement t-shirts,” Veronica says. “Or worse, never feed me again.”

“I would perhaps not resort to such dire extremes, Miss Veronica, but I would be sorely disappointed.”

“Take the tech, Veronica, or I _will_ start stalking your shopping habits.”

“Fine,” she says, with a final glare for Bruce. Then she looks at Lucius, tilts her head and smiles. “Thank you, Lucius.”

“It was no trouble, Veronica,” the older man assures her.

When lunch is over, Leslie and Lucius excuse themselves to return to work. At Alfred suggests the rest of them head to the game room so Mac can connect her laptop one of the large TVs found there for the promised media update. He tells them he will bring the gadgets from Lucius there once he has retrieved them.

Mac heads to her room to grab her laptop, and after a moment’s hesitation Veronica follows. Bruce raises his eyebrows when he notices she’s not headed in the direction of the game room, and she shakes her head and tilts it subtly toward Mac’s retreating back. He nods in understanding.

“Hey, Q, wait up,” Veronica says, half-jogging to catch up with her friend. “Can I walk with you?”

“Um, okay.”

Veronica smiles. “I just wanted to ask you about some stuff you guys didn’t mention at lunch. Like, are you still with Max? Have you seen Lilly around Neptune? Is Eli really on the straight and narrow? Are you still rooming with Parker, and is she still with Piz?”

By the time Veronica runs out of questions, they are at Mac’s bedroom door. They go inside, and Mac sinks down on her bed, pulling Veronica to sit beside her.

She holds up a fist, then slowly extends her thumb. “No, I’ve been flying solo since the end of last summer.”

Her index finger goes up. “Yes, she’s adorable and apparently ruling kindergarten with all the flair her aunt did.”

Middle finger. “Yes, Eli’s been doing good, and he’s even been talking about going into business and setting up his own garage.”

Ring finger. “No, I’ve been doing a part-time paid internship at Kane Software and ended up getting an apartment of my own halfway between campus and the office, so you can totally crash with me with no worries about awkwardness if you need to…”

Pinkie. “Because yes they are still together.”

Then Mac reaches out and grabs Veronica’s hand. “Now ask me what you really want to ask me.”

Veronica blows out a breath. “Okay,” she says, flopping down on the bed and pulling Mac with her. For a moment she stares at the ceiling. “How’s Logan? I can’t imagine he took my… ‘death’… very well.”

A pause. Veronica turns her head just a bit to see Mac staring at the ceiling as well. “That’s the understatement of the century,” Mac says slowly, and Veronica feels dread pool in her stomach.

She goes back to staring at the ceiling. Which is not as ridiculous as one might think because there actually is a painted fresco up there. “Tell me,” she says, voice shaky.

“He went off the rails,” Mac says bluntly, apparently deciding to rip the bandage off. She turns to Veronica, but Veronica stares straight up, not wanting to see the look on her friend’s face. Mac takes her hand. “At first he was in denial, then completely wrecked. I don’t know who was a bigger mess at your funeral, him or your dad.

“Then, I don’t know what happened exactly. He got in trouble for beating up Duncan Kane in the cafeteria on the first day of junior year, but the Kanes didn’t pursue any charges against him. The rest of the semester, he didn’t show up to class, just spent his time boozing it up and doing drugs with the frats. He overdosed once that I know of, but I heard rumors there was at least one other time as well.”

“Shit,” Veronica breathes, eyes watering. “Is he—?” Her breath ends on a sob.

“Shhh, shhh,” Mac says, stroking Veronica’s hair. “He’s okay. He cleaned up his act. One of his professors read him the riot act then took him in or something. He didn’t really explain it. He went to rehab after he got out of the hospital, then I didn’t see him until the spring semester started, and he was like a completely different person.”

“Different how?”

“He took on maximum load, and he spent all his time studying and working out. He even loaded up on classes in the summer. He graduated early, at the end of last semester. I don’t think he talked to anyone about anything non-school-related outside of that professor of his, Dick, me and occasionally your dad the whole time.”

Veronica frowns and turns to her friend, her tears having dried up from shock. “Did he get body snatched?”

Mac snorts. “No,” she says. “I guess he just, I dunno, found a way to cope. Even if it meant turning into a lean, mean academic machine. And, seriously, by the time he graduated, the guy was _built_.”

“So where is he now? Is he in Neptune? Did you tell him I was back? That I’m… not dead?” Veronica’s almost afraid of the answers to her questions at this point.

“Breathe, Bond, because otherwise you will think you had a hallucination induced by oxygen deprivation when I tell you.”

“Okay,” Veronica says, breathing in and out obediently. “Suspense effectively built. Hit me.”

They are the same words she once used to shift Mac’s view of the world and the people she cared about. Mac offers a bittersweet smile at the shared memory.

“He joined the navy. He’s currently in Officer Candidate School in Newport, Rhode Island, on track to become a fighter pilot.”

“He WHAT?”

Mac smirks. “You heard me.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“Okay.” Veronica goes back to staring at the ceiling. The fresco is of an evening sky with dusky clouds and a smattering of stars that are, interestingly enough, astronomically accurate. She stares at the Pleiades. “Talk to me while I absorb this information. You’re telling me Logan Echolls, King of the 09ers, enlisted in the navy and is learning to be a fighter pilot?”

“Yep,” Mac says, popping her P. Veronica lets out a weak laugh. “And we are not living in the _Twilight Zone_ despite the facts that, one, I am absolutely not shitting you, and two, you came back from the dead today. Which he knows about, by the way. I called him last night when I found out about it and this morning before we went to come get you, and I texted him photos during your press conference.”

“How’d he react?”

“About as well as you’re reacting to his news.”

“So completely gobsmacked.”

“Yeah.” Mac bites her lip, hesitates. Then decides to go for broke. “Pretty sure he was crying on the phone last night.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you…” Veronica stops. “Can you call him?”

“He won’t be able to pick up. He’s usually stuck in classes or training or whatever it is they do in OCS until later in the afternoon, and they’re not allowed to use their phones until they’re done for the day.”

“I don’t mind leaving a message. Then he can call me later, if he wants to talk to me.”

“Oh, he’ll definitely want to talk to you,” Mac says with a smile. She pulls out her phone, hits a number on her speed dial, then sets it to speaker mode.

As predicted, the phone rings, then switches to voicemail. Veronica can’t help grinning when a familiar voice comes on the line. “This is Logan with today’s inspirational greeting: ‘If you are breathing, you have a second chance.’ Oprah Winfrey. Leave a message.”

“Hey, Logan, I’ve got someone who wants to talk to you,” Mac says cheerfully.

“Um, hi Logan,” Veronica says, suddenly awkward. “It’s me. I guess I’ll toss another quote back at you: ‘The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.’ Mark Twain.”

Mac giggles. “You’re such a dork, Bond.”

Veronica grins. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you because, speaking of second chances, _the navy, Logan_? Although I guess the navy did kind of pull me out of a terrorist compound, so there’s that. So yeah. Not dead. I’m getting a phone later and would be happy if we could talk. If you want, I mean. I’ll ask Mac to send you my number, so it’ll be up to you.” She pauses. “I missed you.”

The call cuts off right then.

“Well,” Mac says, taking her phone back and staring at the tiny blonde beside her. “Does this mean Team LoVe—as in _Lo_ gan and _Ve_ ronica—is back in business? Brunica fans the world over will be horribly disappointed.”

“No,” Veronica says, shaking her head. “I mean, I’m not ready to get into a relationship right now. There’s stuff I have to do and other stuff I have to figure out. But I did miss him. And I…”

“You love him,” Mac says.

Veronica bites her lip. “Yeah, I do,” she says softly. “But, I’m not in a good place to do anything about it right now.”

“I get it.”

“You do?”

“Veronica. You just came back from the dead.”

“Not legally, not yet,” Veronica murmurs, smiling weakly. “Pretty sure that’s why Bruce is throwing a zombie-and-vampire party on Friday night.”

“Speaking of which,” Mac says, “if he’s serious about that, maybe you can ask if you can invite Logan up for the weekend. We’re all here in case you need a buffer, and he can head back to Newport when we all leave on Sunday afternoon.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Veronica says.

Just then, the bedside phone starts ringing. Mac and Veronica look at each other in confusion, then Mac picks up the phone. “Oh, hi Bruce,” she says after a minute. “No, we didn’t, and please don’t. Just had a phone call to make. We’ll be there in a bit.”

After she puts the phone down, she rolls her eyes at Veronica. “He asked if we got lost and if he should send a search party.”

Veronica laughs and stands up. “I guess we should head back down. He’s probably just anxious about what’s going on with the media.”

“You know,” Mac says as she stands up, tucks her phone into the back pocket of her jeans, and goes to collect her laptop, “I cannot wait for Logan to meet Bruce and vice versa.”

“The way my life has been going for the past twenty-one years, they would either want to kill each other or be total soul bros within moments.”

The two women leave the room laughing.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When they get to the media room, Bruce, Keith and Alicia are already on the large U-shaped couch in front of a 90-inch TV screen. Darrell and Wallace are engrossed in a game on the Wii in front of yet another screen to the side.

Mac wastes no time getting everything connected while simultaneously drooling over the setup. “This is amazing,” she says. “This version of Wayne Tech’s smart entertainment system isn’t even on the market yet.”

“I’m salivating in jealousy,” Keith says. “Imagine watching the World Series with a setup like this one.”

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Bruce drawls.

“Bruce,” Veronica says warningly. The expression on his face when he turns to her is so innocent, it’s a wonder a halo doesn’t appear over his head.

“Here, Nica,” he says, handing her a box containing the latest WEPhone from Wayne Tech. “It’s already charged and ready to go. I’ve already started messing with mine.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce says, his eyes on the screen, where Mac has pulled up the results for #Brunica on Twitter. “This is a surprising amount of traction, considering the press conference was just four hours ago.”

“News travels fast on the interwebs,” Mac says.

“Tell me about it,” Keith mumbles. “I’ve been dodging calls from my literary agent for the past two hours.”

“We can have the media guy Lucius finds figure that stuff out,” Bruce says. He turns to Mac. “What is ‘ship’?”

“Huh?” Mac is nonplussed by Bruce’s abrupt change of subject.

“# _BruceWayne be like, ‘Veronica’s a strong, brilliant woman. I’d put a ring on it.’ @VeronicaMars punches him. #Brunica. I ship it._ ” He reads the tweet aloud. “What does that woman mean, she ‘ships it’? Will there be sailing of some sort? I am relatively certain I have a yacht somewhere if Veronica would like to go sailing. You are all invited, as is Ms. Mari McCabe, whom I unfortunately do not know, but who appears to be very beautiful.”

Mac stares, mouth agape. Then she pulls out her smartphone, holds it up so it shows Bruce and Veronica seated side by side on the couch, and activates the video camera. “Please, please, _please_ say that again exactly how you just did. I’m going to film this because it is pure gold.”

With a charmingly baffled look on his face, Bruce repeats himself word for word.

“First of all,” Mac says, giggling again, “it’s ‘hashtag,’ not ‘pound sign.’ I can’t believe you’re twenty-five, you sound like you’re fifty. Second, ‘ship’ refers to a relationship. When someone ‘ships’ something, it means they support the relationship. So the Twitter user who goes by @MariMcCabe thinks you and Veronica, now known as #Brunica, would be totally cute together.”

Bruce takes a moment to absorb the information. Veronica is once again astounded by his acting ability because she knows his thought processes are lightning quick and multilayered, but he looks like his brain is unable to comprehend more than a single simple thought at a time.

Then Bruce looks into the camera, face grave, sapphire eyes absolutely shining with sincerity. “Thank you, Ms. McCabe. While she continues to reject my advances, I shall never stop trying to be worthy of her. Also, if we do go sailing, I would be happy if you joined us.”

Veronica laughs. “You’re so full of shit,” she says, and hits him square on the face with a pillow. “You’re supposed to dispel the rumors, not feed them, idiot. Also, you can’t just invite random people to go sailing with you.”

“Why not?” Bruce looks confused again. “It could be fun. She seems nice. And beautiful, from her picture.”

Mac stops filming, but she doesn’t stop grinning. “Should I take your comment to mean that I should post this video?”

“Please do. Ms. McCabe is a gorgeous woman. She might wish to console me over Veronica’s rejection.”

“You’re such a douche.” Veronica laughs.

“All right, but on the condition that when you sign up for Twitter, I’m the second person you follow after Veronica.”

“Agreed,” Bruce says solemnly, and stretches out a hand for Mac to shake. Which she does, giggling all the while, before getting on her phone and posting the video as requested.

Veronica, meanwhile, has taken command of Mac’s laptop. “Well, at least some of these tweets don’t completely ignore what we said about not being together,” she grumbles.

“I like this one,” Keith says, scanning the screen. “ _#BruceWayne: I would marry @VeronicaMars in a heartbeat! #VeronicaMars: I’ve adopted you as my brother. Me: #BroZoned is #FriendZoned x 100_.”

“Oh, hey, Cat Grant tweeted about you guys, and it looks like she ships you too,” Mac says. “ _If #BruceWayne & @VeronicaMars aren’t together, it’s just a matter of time. I know love when I see it. Watch: cat.co/brucerescue #Brunica_. By the way, Veronica, you now have a thousand followers on Twitter.”

“What does the link lead to?” Bruce asks curiously.

Mac clicks on it. “It’s a video of your press conference from CatCo Worldwide Media.” She skims the article that accompanies the video. “Seems like they focused more on your relationship and plans for the future than the actual rescue.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “God forbid the rescue of two American hostages from a terrorist cell be more newsworthy than fluff about the fact that we are not seeing each other.”

“Aww, come on, Veronica. You know people like a lot of fluff, and your story’s like something out of a movie or TV show!”

“Ugh. Let’s move on to the actual news sites, please. Hopefully _some_ reporters realize that we didn’t spend two years in a love nest that just happened to have bars on the doors and windows.”

“Sure, Bond.”

The results are about split in the middle between hard news and fluff, much to Veronica’s disgust and Bruce’s amusement.

“Seems as though the _Daily Planet_ decided to cover both ends,” he says, nodding toward the screen.

The main article on the Metropolis-based newspaper’s website sports the headline _Bruce Wayne rescued from terrorists_ with the byline Clark Kent and Lois Lane. A second piece reads _Prince of Gotham vows to uphold parents’ legacy_ and was written by Clark Kent, while a third, by Lane, reads _The 4-1-1 on Bruce Wayne and Veronica Mars_.

“They work fast,” Veronica observes.

“Click on that last one, please,” Bruce says. It turns out to be exactly as advertised, doing a rundown of Bruce’s and Veronica’s bios, detailing the circumstances around Bruce Wayne’s disappearance (and the Wayne Bounty) and Veronica’s supposed death, then finally their rescue and return.

Meanwhile, Mac has split the screens and is checking other online news outlets. “You know,” she says as she sorts through tab after tab, “it looks like you’ll beat out Superman on the front page of the _Planet_ tomorrow. For once.”

“Huh?”

“Who?”

“Superman? The Man of Steel? The Last Son of Krypton?” Seeing Bruce’s and Veronica’s blank faces, Mac grimaces. “Oh. He came out to the public shortly after your disappearance, Veronica. Before then, they called him Metropolis’s Red-Blue Blur or something lame like that. Then he rescued Lois Lane and she told everyone his name was Superman. He gave her an exclusive.”

She shows them a few headlines and photos. Bruce looks at it, his eyes narrowing. Veronica recognizes the look from when he’s puzzling something out.

“He flies?” Bruce asks absently, staring at one particular photo, a closeup of Superman.

“Apparently he’s an alien, the last survivor of a dead planet called Krypton, and he loves Earth and humanity and is here to help. Guy stops bank robberies and muggings, even rescues kittens from trees, but he doesn’t sneeze without _The Daily Planet_ reporting on it. Super speed, super strength, freeze breath, x-ray vision, flight, and apparently he can shoot lasers from his eyes and hear his name called from half the world away.”

“Weaknesses?”

“Some green mineral they’re calling kryptonite. It can be found in certain meteors that originate from his home solar system. They call it kryptonite because it’s apparently pieces of his exploded home world.”

“That’s sad,” Veronica says absently. She is staring at the photo now too. The guy looks a little familiar, but she can’t place it. She raises her eyebrows at Bruce, who subtly flicks his eyes down then back to the screen.

She looks down to where his hands are. _Kent_ , he signs. _Reporter_. Shocked, she turns to face the screen again, and just like that, she sees it. The large reporter from the press conference that morning had worn glasses and had mussed up hair, but he was definitely Superman.

She snorts. _Really? A pair of glasses and messy hair are his big disguise?_ She meets Bruce’s gaze. There’s amusement there, but also apprehension. She knows he will want to gather all the data he can about the flying alien, probably get his hands on a sample of kryptonite as a contingency measure. Metropolis is too close a city to Gotham, and they can’t afford outside (or in this case, extraterrestrial) interference with their Mission.

“Huh,” Mac says, drawing their attention. “Looks like someone went to Neptune and scrounged up interviews with various people we know.” She pulls up a video where some talk show host is sitting with a row of people.

“I see they’ve gotten a hold of Vice Principal Clemmons. And Vinnie Van Lowe. And Richard Casablancas,” Keith observes. “God help them.”

“I hope they’re prepared for him to be a Dick,” Veronica agrees. Then her eyes widen when she notices the woman beside the blonde surfer. Lame blonde highlights, perky and most likely implanted boobs practically on display. One hundred percent fake smile. _No._ “Is that Madison Sinclair?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my mind because I seem to have hallucinated Madison ‘Hellbitch’ Sinclair saying nice things about how smart I am and how we’ve been great friends since kindergarten,” Veronica says numbly five minutes later, when the video ends. She turns to Bruce. “Brucie, am I sick? Are we really home or did I imagine that too?”

He smirks. “Should we invite her to my party so she can repeat the nice things to your face, Nica?”

Veronica whimpers. “Please don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really more just fluff and humor, with foreshadowing of future relationships and Justice League members. 
> 
> I will freely admit I am entirely clueless about US Navy OCS protocols, and research seems to vary between "they can use their phones in the evenings" to "they don't get to use their phones until a couple months in" to "just write letters," so honestly, I'm just gonna invent stuff at this point. And I have a scene in a future chapter where Logan goes off-base and is probably a totally whack idea for anyone who knows anything about Navy OCS training but... well. That's why this is a fic?
> 
> Also, for my age timing, research indicates Bruce’s birthday has changed over the years, but I’m going with the most common one I’ve seen: February 19. And Veronica’s I think is around mid-August? Someone correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m already set on this course. 
> 
> If you care about zodiac sign personalities, these dates make sense to me. If Bruce is a Pisces, he’ll exhibit the altruism, creativity, intuition, and capacity for deep feelings on the positive side, and show a tendency toward paranoia, moodiness, and martyrdom on the negative. Veronica, as a Leo, would possess traits of showmanship, optimism, loyalty, blunt honesty (as well as a low tolerance for bullshit), and an ability to think on her feet. On the negative side, she’d be stubborn, bossy, possessive, yet prone to self-doubt hidden by bravado.


	21. Party Plans and Playing the Press

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most might say coming back from the dead is a boring, tedious process. And then there’s what happens when Bruce Wayne comes back from the dead.

At just before four in the afternoon, Alfred alerts them to the arrival of Bruce’s new media consultant before going to the front door to show her in.

By then, Veronica has called Dinah, although her joy at speaking to her friend again is tempered by her frustration at being unable to tell the other woman Sara is alive. Dinah has moved back to Star City, where her dad is a cop, and is working on getting a law degree. Veronica promises to visit her once things settle down.

She’s also Skyped with Garcia, who called the entire BAU into her command center to join in on the call. None of the agents say anything about the fact that it is a gross breach of protocol to use FBI resources for a personal call. It turns out the team’s unit chief offered Keith his assistance after Veronica’s supposed death, and all the agents had put worked on investigating the crime in their personal time.

Eli Navarro is another person she gets to talk to. As usual, he disguises his concern with tough words, but before the call ends, he is promising to bring over his grandma’s famous tamales when she gets back to Neptune.

By the time the media consultant arrives, Veronica is emotionally exhausted and tempted to bail. Her shoes are off, and she is lying on the couch with her feet in her dad’s lap and her head on a pillow on Bruce’s lap as he fiddles with his phone (and his new Twitter account).

Bruce has tweeted a pic of the two of them that has more likes, replies, and retweets than Veronica wants to think about. True to his word, the first thing he did upon setting up his Twitter account was follow Veronica, then Mac, then Wallace.

The three of them, plus Wayne Enterprises and the Wayne Foundation, are the only accounts he follows. He has over two thousand followers within an hour of getting on Twitter and has been replying to various tweets with Brucie’s airy combination of obliviousness and humor. Veronica amuses herself by listening to him read these aloud.

Alfred, with his impeccable instincts, had placed a plate of freshly baked double chocolate chunk cookies in front of her along with cups of coffee for Bruce, Veronica, Mac, and Keith. After a few sips of java heaven and a couple of quickly devoured cookies, the blonde PI decides she has the wherewithal to keep on keeping on.

She can only imagine how Bruce feels after keeping up his Brucie façade. She guesses, from the way he’s got his head tipped onto the top of the couch’s back rest, that he’s as tired as she is.

She holds a cookie up to his mouth. “Eat,” she says, in a mimicry of his orders from the day before. She’d give him her all-powerful head tilt, but she’s at an awkward angle for it.

He raises his eyebrows at her, but takes an obedient bite. “Good,” he mumbles around a mouthful of gooey cookie. He swallows and takes another bite, still not bothering to actually take the cookie from her.

“This is exactly why everyone on the damn internet thinks you two are hiding the fact that you’re a couple.” A tall woman in a business suit stands just inside the door, Alfred beside her. She looks vaguely familiar, but Veronica can’t place the face.

“A Ms. CJ Cregg to see you, sir,” the butler says belatedly.

Keith is looking at the woman, his gaze assessing. “You were press secretary under President Bartlet’s administration,” he says.

“I was indeed, so you can rest assured I’m perfectly capable of handling even the shittiest of shit shows, which Mr. Wayne and your daughter’s return to civilization certainly is not.” She walks forward, and when Bruce starts to shift Veronica so he can get up to greet her, she waves a hand, stopping him. “Stay put, boy. I can see how tired you are.”

Bruce sits back as ordered, and Veronica smiles. “I like her,” she tells him.

“That’s unnecessary, but fortunate,” the woman says, then bends down so they can shake hands without getting out of their current position.

“If Nica likes you, then you’re hired, Ms. Cregg,” Bruce says with a smile.

“I was already hired, or I wouldn’t be here. Mr. Fox has already deposited my retainer, and I have signed a pretty damn ironclad NDA. Given I’ll be running your public life from now on, call me CJ.”

“Then call me Bruce, or Brucie if you like.”

Veronica rolls her eyes at him, then waves. “I’m Veronica.”

“I am aware.”

She takes a seat on the couch. “So. From what I understand, despite your masterful handling of this morning’s press conference, you need someone to help you with the publicity storm your rescue has kicked up.”

“Yes,” Bruce says mildly. “Unless it can prove useful in some way, I would like this storm to blow over as quickly as possible. I don’t want the paps swarming my birthday party on Friday.”

CJ snorts. “It’s not going to blow over this week, or even next week, unless a world-threatening catastrophe occurs. And even then, maybe not, if Superman is quick enough to deal with things. But we can find ways to make sure it doesn’t take over your life.”

Bruce sighs. “What do you need?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

As it turns out, CJ approves of Bruce’s idea to throw a party. She suggests he do it in a hotel ballroom, however, to make entrances and exits that much easier. So Alfred books out the top floor of the Orchid Hotel. She discusses his options for press appearances, suggests a mix of medias.

“You’re going to want to hit the newspapers with your more serious side, your plans for Gotham, yadadada, so I suggest we sit down with the Wayne Foundation folks and get cracking on what your goals are for the next few months and in the long term.”

“Which newspapers?” Bruce asks.

“ _The Gotham Gazette_ is a given, because you need to play to the home team. Then I’d suggest the _New York Times_ and _Daily Planet_ , at the very least.”

“Can you set it up?”

“Do bears shit in the woods?”

Bruce smirks. “Okay. If you get the _Planet_ can we get Kent? I like his style.” Veronica narrows her eyes at him just the smallest bit.

“Clark Kent?” CJ looks at Bruce with an interested expression. “That’s an unusual choice. Most people ask for Lane, not her mild-mannered sidekick.”

“Lane’s the one who interviewed Superman, right?”

“From what I gather, she didn’t so much as request her interview, she demanded it. Jumped off a building to show she was serious.”

“Jesus.”

CJ shrugs. “Name of the game,” she says.

“What about TV? Radio?”

CJ rolls her eyes. “I know you’ve been incarcerated for three years, but were you living under a rock before then? Radio is low priority. TV, I’d suggest ride the wave of popularity you’ve engendered with Veronica, sneak in some hints at the charitable stuff you plan to do, then go more into depth on those when your plans are solid. All anyone cares about right now are your rescue and your relationship status.”

He winces. “Harsh.”

“But true,” Veronica adds. “Anything I can do before we go home on Sunday?”

“I’ll see what I can do. I’m looking at either _Good Morning America_ or _The Today Show_. Since Veronica from California, I suggest we schedule a trip out, do a guesting on _Ellen_ and maybe _Larry King Live_.”

Veronica is treated to a full-on Brucie grin. “Veronica promised me to buy me ice cream if I came down to Neptune,” he says. “So of course we’re gonna do that. If we need to do _Ellen_ or _Larry King_ , I’ve got a place in LA we can crash at.”

“You mean _Alfred_ has a place in LA,” Veronica teases. “You’re still dead, dude.”

Bruce waves a hand. “A technicality. My lawyers’ll fix it. They’re fixing yours too. By the time you leave, you’ll have the paperwork prepped, and all you’ll have to do is give it to your lawyer to file or whatever.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” Veronica says, and Keith echoes the sentiment. “Cliffie will appreciate it.” She smiles as she thinks of Cliff McCormack, her dad’s best friend and her obligatory weird uncle figure who also happens to be the family lawyer.

“Ah, to be so fortunate in my friends, that they handle all my paperwork,” CJ says wistfully.

“Well, we’re friends now, aren’t we?” Bruce asks.

“Ahh, my boy, may you never lose that sweet innocence.”

Veronica snorts at the woman’s words. “You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen him around women I haven’t expressly forbidden him to hit on.”

Bruce smiles lazily. “Nica says I have poor impulse control.”

“Speaking of which,” CJ says, fixing him with a hard look. “Traumatic brain injury. How much of that is bullshit?”

“Um, you know.” Bruce waves an indolent hand. “It’s not anything really. Just makes some of my memories from that time a little fuzzy, and it’s hard to stay focused sometimes.”

“He’s also got a quick temper and no brain-to-mouth filter,” Veronica pipes in. “And he’ll hit on anything that moves and doesn’t smell too bad. Which might make your job… pretty interesting.”

“I look forward to the challenge. I’m fully capable of smacking him if the need arises.”

“Kinky,” Brucie purrs.

“Well, I guess that’s my cue to head out so I can start making calls.” She stabs a finger in Veronica and Bruce’s directions. “You’re both going to get some sleep so you don’t look like shit when I manage to schedule some interviews. I’ll arrange for a stylist to come in first thing in the morning, then meet you at Wayne Enterprises after your board meeting so we can sit down with Lucius and the company’s media liaison.”

“She’s kind of impressive,” Bruce says when CJ leaves.

“Well, you’re kind of paying her to be,” Veronica replies philosophically. She pauses. “Did she really just tell us to take a nap? Like we’re five or something?”

“Yes.”

“And we’re just going to go to our rooms like obedient children?”

“Yes.” This time it isn’t Bruce who answers, but everyone else. Keith, Alfred, Alicia, Mac—even Wallace and Darrell, who are still playing video games across the room.

“Bruce! They’re conspiring against us!”

“Hnn.”

“What are we going to do?” she asks in a stage whisper.

Bruce looks around them, at the stern faces of their family.

“Lower your shields and surrender,” he deadpans, his voice gravelly and robotic. “Resistance is futile.”

He doesn’t bother to duck when Veronica hits him with a pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have another one of my rando cameos here. CJ Cregg was absolutely my favorite character from The West Wing. Bruce needs a media/press/image consultant, so I thought, who better than the indomitable CJ?


	22. More Than a Courtesy Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan, Veronica, a phone call. Much angst. Much fluff. Enough said.

On orders to at least _rest_ before dinner, Veronica brings her new laptop and phone to her room, figuring if she fiddles with them while in bed, it counts as “resting.”

She’s messing with her phone (and shaking her head over the way her Twitter is just blowing up thanks to Brucie’s antics) when it pings.

_Hey, it’s Logan. I got your message. I’d love to call you, just let me know when would be a good time._

She doesn’t answer right away, because her heart is hammering and she has to take a moment to do one of Bruce’s mental exercises to calm it down.

_Now is fine. Want me to call you?_

In the next moment, her phone is ringing. She hits Accept.

“Hi Logan.”

“Veronica.” Her name is a breath and benediction. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

She smiles. “Ditto.”

For a moment she just hears him breathing on the other end of the line. “Can you just… talk to me for a bit? I need a moment.”

“Um, sure,” she says. _What should I talk about?_ “Um, I’m in Gotham at the moment, hiding out from the press. Though it looks like I might have to do some interviews in the next few days. I’m not sure how much you know about what happened to me—Mac didn’t tell me what she told you when you guys talked.”

“The barebones, I guess? That you were being held captive by terrorists this whole time, that you and some billionaire were rescued yesterday and flown back to the US this morning. Heather—you remember meeting Heather in Neptune?”

“Yeah.” She remembers a preteen girl with hearts in her eyes and excellent taste in ice cream.

“She’s been texting me all day, sent me a couple of links. So I saw the video of your press conference.”

“More Bruce’s and the Navy’s than mine,” Veronica retorts. “But yeah, that’s basically the story. They told me about the faked death thing after we’d been debriefed on the aircraft carrier they brought us to right after the extraction.”

She pauses. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about that. If there had been any way for me to let you or Dad know I was okay—“

“Hey, hey,” he says softly. “You were literally held hostage by terrorists. I’d say, as far as excuses go, you’re golden.”

She laughs humorlessly. “Yeah, well, doesn’t stop me from feeling guilty. My dad was a wreck this morning.”

“So was I,” he confesses. “I couldn’t concentrate on anything I was doing today. I didn’t believe it ‘til training let out and I opened my phone to see the pictures Mac sent. And then I listened to your voicemail. You destroy me, Veronica.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles again. God, she has so much to make up for when it comes to the people she left behind.

“Again, not your fault.” He pauses. “I’m assigning 90 percent of the blame on the terrorists.”

“Just 90 percent?”

“I figure 8 percent goes to Jake Kane for hiring you and 2 to Bruce Wayne for getting himself kidnapped in the first place.”

“It’s not their fault either.”

“Yeah, well, I can blame who I want,” he says. Then, “God, I have no words for how happy I am that you’re back, alive and whole.”

“Me too. And speaking of alive, I am going to punch you really hard next time I see you. Mac told me about the drugs.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “My world crashed down around me,” he says quietly. “It was worse than after Lilly, because even when we were enemies back then, I still had you. And this time around, the person I had lost was you.”

She’s crying silently. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Lo.”

“Hey, shhh.” There are tears in his voice too. “None of that, bobcat. I’m alive. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

She’s sobbing outright now. “I would’ve been so pissed to come home and find you dead, Logan Echolls.”

He lets out a watery chuckle. “I would’ve been so pissed to die and find out you weren’t in the afterlife because I’d forgotten the one cardinal truth: that Veronica Mars is a badass.”

“You bet your butt I am,” she says.

They both take a moment to settle their rioting emotions.

“So. The navy, huh? How did that happen?” She lets her curiosity color her voice.

He sighs. “Well, after I ODed the second time—“

She yelps. “The second time?”

“Yeah… I was in a bad place. And I know you were too, and I have no excuses. But I just didn’t deal with your being…gone…very well. Or at all, really. I got wasted any chance, any way I could get in the months after I got the news. I think the only day I was sober was your funeral, and only because your dad said he’d kick me out if I showed up drunk or high.”

“Logan.” The sadness and worry in her chest hurts more than Talia’s knife did.

“I’ve never been the poster boy for healthy coping mechanisms, have I?” There’s a wry, rueful tone to his voice that helps more than comfort and platitudes might have.

“For what it’s worth, I’ve been stone cold sober for one year and nearly three months. I even have the chip to prove it.”

“Okay,” Veronica says. “I get it. You’re okay.” And because he is, so is she.

“I’m more okay than I was, especially since you came back from the dead today.” He’s smiling. She might not be able to see it, but she can hear it, feel it.

“All right. So back to story time…”

He laughs. “Yeah, as I was saying, I landed in the hospital. At that point, I’d driven everyone but Dick away. Mac tried, and even your dad did, but they were grieving too. And, well, did Mac tell you I beat Duncan up after he told me you were working a case for his dad when you disappeared?”

“She didn’t know why, just told me you pulverized him in the Hearst cafeteria. Seriously, Logan, what is with you and that particular cafeteria?”

“The terrible food?”

She snorts. “Okay. So I guess you and Duncan broke up.”

“Should never have gotten back together in the first place,” Logan replies airily. But he is not as good an actor as Bruce is, and Veronica hears the hard, bitter edge to his words loud and clear.

“I should’ve gotten a clue that time he left the country without a word, because we were _such_ good friends. Or maybe before then, when I was accused of murder and he was nowhere to be found, then returned to put the moves on my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, we both should have,” Veronica agrees softly. “We were such idiots.”

He barks out a laugh. “I don’t disagree. Anyway, I woke up in the hospital and one of my professors was sitting beside my bed. Dick couldn’t come—your dad had him in the clink for public intoxication. So my prof, he was a complete hardass, and the moment he saw I was awake and lucid, he ripped me a new one.”

“Good.” Veronica would not have lasted in Nanda Parbat if Bruce and Shiva had coddled her or allowed her to wallow in despair over her situation. “Care and sympathy are great, but sometimes the tough love approach works when nothing else does.”

“It did in this case. I had a meltdown, blubbered and yelled at him about Lilly, my mom, my dad, but mostly about you. He listened to everything, then told me you would have been disappointed. Worse, he said you’d be pissed and ashamed.”

“Not ashamed, but he was right about the pissed part. I hope you listened to him.”

“Who do you’re think you’re talking to? Of course not,” he says with a laugh. “Well, not at first. The guy kept coming. He’d been a former navy pilot himself, and he’d dealt with his share of punks who thought they were all that. Eventually, I realized that I had to do better, and yeah part of that was because I realized how pissed you would’ve been. And part of that was, I was not going to turn into my mother.”

“Oh, Logan.”

“Hey, whatever works, right? So I checked into rehab. Dr. Galway visited me once I was allowed visitors, and when I finished the program a couple days before Christmas, he took me in. Took me flying with him on Christmas Day, even. He’s the one who told me I could do this when I showed interest in the navy. He helped me get re-enrolled in Hearst for the new semester, encouraged me to reach out to Mac and Dick. I even visited your dad a few times.”

“I know. I’m glad. And I’m proud of you. Mac told me that, despite everything, you actually graduated _early_.”

“Well, you know me, I’m an all-or-nothing kind of guy.”

And in that moment, Veronica realizes how true that is, and how, if she’d fully understood the way Logan throws himself wholeheartedly into everything he commits to, they would have dealt better with each other. When he’d thought she had betrayed him, he’d turned the whole school against her, tormented her daily. When they’d fallen for each other, he’d gone into full-on protector mode. _You have a problem with Veronica, you're pretty much dead to me, so just, like, evaporate or something_ , she remembers him saying.

“Veronica? Still there?”

She laughs a little awkwardly. “Yeah. Just thinking. So now you’re in officer candidate school?”

“OCS, yeah. Galway made a few calls to help me get in too.”

“They wouldn’t have taken you if you weren’t qualified,” she says. “I did some research on it. It’s a 12-week program?”

“Yeah, I’m in the first class of the year. We just started our third week. If all goes according to plan, I’ll graduate in April.”

“Can I—” Veronica hesitates. “Could I come and cheer you on?”

Silence.

She panics, starts to babble. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s allowed or if you’d want me there. I just—”

“Veronica.” There’s a certain way he says her name when his emotions are up. “It would mean the world.”

“Oh.” And she tears up again, a little. God, her _dad_ didn’t make her cry this much. “Then I’ll be there. You just let me know when.”

“I will.” He falls silent. “Veronica?”

“Yeah?”

“If I can get liberty, can I see you? Not that talking to you isn’t great, but this isn’t gonna be fully real to me until I lay eyes on you. How long are you in Gotham for? I checked, and it’s a flight of just over an hour. I’d be happy to pay for it, if you could fly up. I don’t know if I could dispensation to fly down as there’s a 100-mile limit on off-base liberty, but I could ask.”

“They let you off the base?”

“If nobody fucks up, we’ll get off-base liberty on Friday evening, then Saturday afternoon until Sunday. If you’re free at any time within that period, I’m happy to work around your schedule.”

She chews on her bottom lip. “I’m pretty sure I’m free on Saturday, but let me check and get back to you about the rest? We’re flying back to Neptune on Sunday, but I don’t have any details about what time. Whatever happens, though, I will make time to see you, if you can get free. Even if I’m already back in Neptune, I’d fly out. I’d just have to check how to work it because the press is kind of a nightmare right now.”

“Veronica, I of all people understand your dilemma with regard to the paparazzi. Son of two Hollywood A-Listers, remember? One of whom murdered my ex-girlfriend?”

She chuckles weakly. “I guess so, huh?” She pauses. “Actually…”

“Yes?”

“Friday is Bruce’s birthday, and he’s having a big party. Mac and I talked about inviting you, but I haven’t talked to Bruce yet, so I don’t want to just straight up ask you to come. Not that I think he wouldn’t let me invite you, but it’s just, you know, rude.” Oh god, she’s babbling. And she can’t seem to stop. “But if he does, would you want to? If it doesn’t get you into trouble at with the navy, I mean. I wouldn’t want to do that.”

He’s laughing at her. “Veronica, breathe. At this point, I’m still not sure what is or isn’t allowed and I won’t know for sure until Friday if we’ll get liberty or not, so maybe better not plan for my being there. All though if it’s allowed, then I will move heaven and earth to be there. I just don’t want to disappoint you if things don’t work out well.”

“I don’t care,” she says. “I just want to see you, whenever you’re free.”

“Same here.” He sighs. “So tell me about this party.”

“Bruce got it into his head that he should have an undead-themed party because we’re both still legally dead, and no one seems to be able to talk him out of it. He wants cupcakes shaped like brains and cocktails that look like blood, for crying out loud.”

Logan laughs. “Sounds like a fun guy.”

“I’m not sure if I’m looking forward to introducing the two of you or dreading it,” she confides. “Mac already told me that when it happens, she wants a front row seat.”

“Are you guys—” Logan stops.

“Ohmigod, _please_ don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the whole Brunica thing too. Ugh! And Bruce thinks it’s hilarious. He keeps fanning the flames!”

“So you’re not—”

“Together? Nuh uh. No way, no how, not ever. Like I said in the press conference, he’s basically my brother now.” She pauses. “Actually, Brucie’s like a male Lilly Kane. I love him, look after him, whatever, but only because I’m as close to a sister as he’s got. So you see? Not gonna happen.”

“I probably shouldn’t mention a particularly memorable limo ride, homecoming sophomore year.”

“Lord, Logan, don’t you know that kiss Lilly planted on me wasn’t about me and her? It was about you. And maybe pissing Duncan off and shocking me, which, as you know, were two of Lilly’s hobbies.”

“I’m glad,” he says quietly. “I know I shouldn’t be, have no right to be. But I’m glad anyway.”

She closes her eyes. “Logan,” she says slowly. “I—”

“You don’t have to say anything. You just got back from the dead. I’m not going to push you. I just want you to know that… that I love you. That when I thought you died, the world stopped. I don’t expect anything from you. I’d be grateful if we could be friends, but I won’t even expect that. I’m glad just to know that somewhere in the world, you’re taking up space, breathing, living your life.”

“Logan, stop.” He does. “I need to tell you that I love you too.” She hears him gasp. “And I’m sorry I never gave you the words. You don’t know how much I regretted that, when I was… away.”

She pauses. She knows what she has to say next, and it hurts. That it is completely true only makes it hurt worse.

“That being said, I’m not in a good place for anything more than friendship right now. I need to get my life in order, get a degree, figure out what I’m doing for the rest of my life and how I’m doing it. I’m not going to do anything stupid like ask you to wait for me because I have no idea how long it’s going to take for me to get to a point where a relationship is something I can do. But I would like to be friends.”

He doesn’t say anything. She frowns, panics a moment. “No pressure, though, if it’s weird or hard. I’d rather you be a stranger and happy than a friend who lets me mess up his life.”

Just then the phone at her bedside starts ringing. “Shit, hold on, okay? Don’t hang up?” _Please, please, don’t hang up_.

“I won’t.”

She moves toward the bedside phone, fumbles for it. “Hello?”

“Miss Veronica, I just wanted to let you know that dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes. I wanted to give you time to get sorted, in case I woke you up.”

“No, I wasn’t sleeping, Alfred. I was on the phone. I’ll be there.”

“Very good, miss.”

“Thanks, Alfred.” She replaces the receiver in its handle, then lifts her mobile to her ear once more. “Hello? Logan? Are you still there?”

“Always, bobcat.”

She blows out a breath, relieved. Then realizes she has no idea what to say. “Uh…”

He chuckles. “I take it you have to go.”

She sighs. “Yeah. That was Alfred, Bruce’s… um… butler. He was telling me dinner will be served soon.”

“I’ll let you go then.”

“But—”

“Veronica, spend this time with your family. As for what you said… thank you for telling me how you feel. I can’t tell you how much it means. And you don’t have to explain needing to focus on yourself for the foreseeable future. I’ve been doing therapy for over a year, and believe me when I tell you I understand.”

“I—thanks.” Then, “Therapy?”

“What, you think I went from substance abuse to stone cold sober on nothing but willpower?”

“Um… kind of?”

He laughs. “I guess it’s good to know you have so much faith in me, however misplaced it might be.”

“I’ve always had faith in you, Logan,” she says quietly. “It was myself I didn’t believe in, and I let it poison my mind, back when we were together.”

“Well, I’m not letting me off the hook, even if you are strangely inclined to,” he says lightly. “As it happens, I think friendship would be good for the both of us.”

“Really?”

“Where’s that faith of yours now, sugarpuss?” His voice is warm, amused.

She chuckles. “I guess I’m not very consistent, am I? It’s been… an eventful day. Heck, it’s been an eventful two years.”

“Yes. Yes, it has been.” A pause. “Now, go eat. I could tell from the videos of your press conference that you’re thinner than you were. Which is to be expected, but I’ll go to _my_ dinner better knowing you’re enjoying a solid meal.”

“Well, Alfred _did_ promise to make roast beef and lasagna tonight, since they’re Bruce’s and my favorites.”

“Then I’ll let you go so you can enjoy it. Can I… Can I call you tomorrow night?”

“I’d like that.”

“Until tomorrow, then.”

“Talk to you then, Logan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Veronica Mars fans know I’ve stolen major backstory points for Logan from the Veronica Mars movie and books. But, honestly, how else am I going to build up Logan’s BAMFness in the light of Veronica’s? And even then, consider, in this fic, Veronica already knows how to pilot a jet.
> 
> Also, if anyone reads this who is like "this totally would not happen with a Navy OCS student," seriously, I know nothing about life in the OCS, so I based this off the many conflicting things I found in forums and websites and such, so kindly attribute errors to my imagination's failure to meet with reality on these points. I shall cop out and claim artistic license.


	23. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Veronica discuss plans to lay out and angles of attack for a few of the mysteries and opportunities that lie ahead of them.

The next few days promise to be a bit of a whirlwind. Veronica ends up being asked for almost as many interviews as Brucie is. Fortunately, CJ is able to help her put off most of the requests, using the excuse that Veronica needs time to readjust to being back and reconnect with her family.

Their second day back, Bruce has a full day of meetings, but still insists on their usual 4 AM training session, which they have not in the manor’s enviably well-equipped gym, but in the ballroom, where Alfred has laid out a few floor mats. Bruce explains they’re less likely to be discovered here, and Veronica calls him a paranoid bastard, but that’s par for the course.

For the next hour and a half, it’s like they never left the League as Bruce runs her through drills, lectures her on her form in rapid-fire Russian, and then concludes with a sparring session.

As they do their cool down exercises, Veronica and Bruce run down their plans for the next few days. Bruce asks if there’s anyone from Neptune she’d like to invite to her party. “I’ll cover the airfare for anyone you want to fly over,” he says. “And either put them up here or at a hotel.”

“That’ll just make a lot more work for Alfred,” Veronica says, shaking her head. “No, the only one I’d like to invite is Logan, although I’m not sure it’ll be possible.”

Since they’ve pretty much shared their life stories with each other, Bruce is well aware of who Logan is to her, but she hasn’t had a chance to update him on where Logan is now. “Do it. I wondered why he didn’t fly over with your family.”

She chews on her bottom lip. “It’s not exactly that simple.” She gives him the rundown, including the issue with liberty.

“Hnn.”

“What?”

“Just, from what you told me about him, the navy is a bit of a surprise, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Veronica laughs. “But, you know, I think it might actually be perfect for him. He’s never really had a lot of discipline in his life, just a shit dad who bounced between spoilage and abuse. When I talked to him last night, he sounded more settled, more focused, than I’ve ever heard him.”

“You’re proud of him.”

“Yeah.” Veronica smiles. “Yes, I am.”

“You’re still in love with him.”

It’s not a question, but she answers anyway. “Yes.”

He raises an eyebrow. “But?”

“Why does there have to be a ‘but’?”

“You’re wearing your ‘but’-face.”

“This?” Veronica points at her face. “This is my ‘ain’t none of your damn business’ face. I am way too cute to have a butt-face.”

“If it affects your emotional wellbeing, it is a distraction. If you are distracted, you are not as effective in the field. If you are not effective in the field, it is my business.”

“Is this your EQ-deficient way of telling me you’re worried about me, Mr. Black-Hole-of-Humor?”

Silence.

“Fine. I told Logan I wasn’t ready for anything but friendship last night. He accepted it, agreed it would be best.”

“But?”

“But nothing. It’s good. I need time to focus on myself, on our mission, on planning for the future.”

“But?”

“Argh! Fine. It’s kind of shitty of me, but I wish he hadn’t been so quick to accept the whole ‘friends’ thing. And yes, I know that makes me an absolute hypocrite because I’m the one who said it in the first place, but just because I _know_ neither of us is ready for anything more, it doesn’t mean I don’t regret it.”

“Hnn.”

“So now I’m wondering if _he_ regrets it too, or if he’s kind of glad and he’s just letting me off easy because, hey, held hostage by terrorists for two years, or at least as far as he knows.”

“Hnn.”

“And I hate that we haven’t even seen each other, and I’m falling right back into this pattern of self-doubt. Which he totally doesn’t deserve. And it’s not even that I don’t believe he loves me, because I _know_ he does. I just don’t know if he can or should want to deal with me, especially with everything we have going on right now.”

“Hnn.”

“Please say something other than ‘hnn’!”

“What do you want me to say.”

“I don’t know. Offer some advice. What do you think I should do?”

“Talk to him. Listen to him.”

“We did that last night!”

“Face to face.”

“Yeah, well, he’s looking into seeing if he can get leave. Or liberty. Or whatever the navy calls it.”

“Hnn.”

“What now?”

“Nothing. I’ll look into it as well.”

“Bruce? What are you planning?”

“Let you know if I work something out.”

She sighs. “Fine. But don’t go overboard with anything, okay?”

“No promises, if I have to get Brucie involved.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “You make trouble for Logan, and Brucie is gonna be very sorry.”

“Understood. Jake Kane plans to be at my Wayne Enterprises board meeting today. He’s flying in this morning, and I wouldn’t be surprised if his kid and grandkid are with him.”

“I would love to see Lilly,” Veronica says wistfully, by now used to Bruce’s rapid changes of topic once he’d decided a matter had been fully addressed.

“I don’t want you meeting Duncan Kane alone.”

Veronica frowns. “I can handle Duncan.”

“I have no doubt about that, but Brucie is protective of you.”

“You know only creepazoids refer to themselves in the third person.”

“Brucie is not me,” he says impatiently.

“I know,” Veronica replies. “You know how I know? Because that was a joke, and you totally took me seriously. _Brucie_ has a sense of humor. You should consider acquiring one yourself.”

“Hnn.”

“Gonna challenge me on that point?”

“Hnn.”

She decides to give him a taste of his own medicine and changes the subject. “So, anything you need me to do today while you’re stuck in meetings?”

“CJ’s sending a stylist over, and Alfred has hired a team of manicurists and masseuses for you, Mac and Alicia.”

Veronica smiles widely. “Really? You’re throwing us a girls-only ‘sparty’?”

“…Yes.”

“That’s so sweet of you.”

“It’s not. It’s something Brucie would be expected to do.”

“It’s sweet of Brucie, then.”

“Hnn.”

“What else?”

“Keep your phone on. Brucie might need to escape awkward situations by having some anxiety issues, and he or Lucius might call you for help.”

“No problem.”

“I’d also like you to call Leslie and… explain Brucie’s issues with doctors. Like you did on the aircraft carrier. I don’t want to spend more than a day subjecting myself to exams, so if you can cut down on the tests she wants us to take, please do.”

Veronica nods. “We’ve both got scars we might have a hard time explaining, given the cover stories we shared with them. And I’m not ready to think about what getting dipped in the Pit did to my organs or whatever. Plus, it wouldn’t be too wise to give them something to compare to, a few years into the Mission. Just in case.”

Bruce grunts. “Mention I’ve got issues about keeping our clothes on.”

“All right. What about the brain injury?”

“I got beaten up pretty badly in prison, right before I went into the League. Pretty sure the hit I took to the head will show up on an x-ray or MRI. If it doesn’t… Well, it’s been documented by a supposed eye witness, and brain injuries are notoriously unpredictable. Worst case, I’ll hack the files, doctor the scans.”

“You can do that?”

Bruce smirks.

“You’re not an infallible hacker.” Veronica sighs. “After all, Mac found your trail of fake detective identities.”

He huffs in annoyance. “The trail was real, but Ra’s decided to make it a little easier to find than I had left it. He wanted to be able to monitor who was good enough to pick it up. There weren’t many. She wouldn’t have found it if he hadn’t meddled.”

“Okay. It would hurt Mac’s pride if she knew how little you thought of your skills, I think. If she knew you weren’t Brucie, that is.”

“About that. Her.”

“What about Mac? You’re not going to mess with her, are you? She’s not a threat to the mission.”

“I want her.”

Veronica’s eyes narrow. “You better not mean that like it came out because mentor or not, I’m going to kick your ass so hard you’ll be shitting pieces of my boots for—”

“I want to hire her for Wayne Tech. She’s damn good, she’s completely loyal to you, and I need an in.”

“You want to bring her in?” Veronica gapes. “What happened to the whole ‘the fewer people who know about my secret identity, the better’ thing? Hell, I had to talk you into bringing _me_ in.”

“Not into the Mission. I need an in at Wayne Tech. We’ll need outfitting.”

“Oh. Won’t it be dangerous for her though?”

“Within acceptable parameters, and not significantly more than she already is simply from her association with you. If she learns about the mission, it won’t be an issue.”

“Oh, you’ve already decided that, have you?”

“Of all the people closest to you, she is the most likely to get on board and the least likely to talk. The second being Logan Echolls, although he would take issue with you putting yourself in harm’s way. I don’t want to bring her in unless absolutely necessary, but should circumstances result in revelation, I have no objections.”

“We’re keeping my family from knowing anything about the Mission for as long as possible,” Veronica says firmly.

“I still want her.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t have her.”

“If I don’t hire her when she graduates, Jake will. She’s already doing work for Wiedman.”

“It’s an internship!”

“It’s Wiedman. He’s cagey. Small time, but he knows how to use what he’s got.”

Veronica throws up her hands in defeat. “Fine, make her an offer. But no using any temptations she wouldn’t otherwise get from a big-name company.”

“Fine.” He hesitates.

“What?”

“I want you too.”

“Oh for the love of—”

“No. Listen. You join my Mission, part of your value will be the ability to investigate in the light of day. The Bat will, by necessity, be a creature of the night. Criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot, and if the Bat must be the symbol they fear, he must be a myth shrouded in shadow.”

“I know this.”

“Then you know we will need a daylight operative. Brucie will have other obligations and be too high profile. No one will question why America’s most famous PI is investigating a case.”

“You’re stooping to flattery?”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe a little.” She holds up her thumb and forefinger to show him how little. It’s not nothing, though.

“Then yes.”

“How will this work? Do I just look into renewing my PI license? Or do you want something more formal?”

“Yes.”

“To which one?”

“Both. You need to be independent, but I want you to be on retainer for Wayne Security. The company can capitalize on your fame, and it will justify the allotment of funds should we need to back a cover.”

“So, nepotism.”

“You’ll be an asset. Currently, Wayne Security works mainly in conjunction with Wayne Tech’s security systems and hardware, to provide consultation regarding the human element of personal, small-and-medium business, and corporate security. I’d like to expand it to include personal security and investigations, which is where you would come in.”

“I don’t know, Bruce. Wouldn’t a day job mess with my mission effectiveness?”

“Since you will be attending university, no one will expect you to have regular hours. Consultations would also give you a good cover if you needed to travel for the Mission. Not all threats to Gotham originate within the city.”

“When would I start?”

“As soon as you are willing.”

“I’m staying in Neptune until May,” she reminds him.

“Tony Stark lives in Malibu. Given the information Nyssa provided us, I had thought to make gathering evidence on his traitor your first case.”

Veronica frowns. “What’s your angle?”

“Earle is taking Wayne Enterprises public before the end of the month. He has also been selling weapons my company has designed and manufactured for the US Armed Forces to known criminals and terrorist groups. Alfred and I will be releasing the information anonymously to trusted sources in the press and also buying up the shares in the public sale so I retain controlling interest and can gain the leverage to make sure he ceases to be a pain in Lucius’s side.”

She grins. “You go, Brucie!”

“This brings us to Stark. I have some passing acquaintance with him from my time at MIT, though it has been nearly a decade since I have seen him. Still, having suffered the betrayal of one of my board members who had been a close associate of my father’s, I could not ignore it when Lucius informed me of similar machinations within Stark Industries.”

“Do we know who it is?”

“My findings point to Obadiah Stane, but these were acquired illegally.”

There’s something in his voice that makes Veronica frown. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“According to media reports, Stane has acted as surrogate father to Tony after Howard Stark’s death. I am unsure as to how much of this is spin. An emotional connection may lead to unforeseen complications when dealing with either or both of them.”

“Yeah, well, that stuff’s unavoidable. Trust me on this.”

“Hnn.”

“So your plan is to introduce us so I can gather the evidence he can use to turn the traitor over to the authorities?”

“I had hoped to do so, yes. Although I can offer you resources and technological and tactical support, I am needed in Gotham. This would also establish your reputation as an investigator without overusing your connection to Brucie.”

“And Stark would owe us. All right. I’ll look into renewing my license for New York, New Jersey, and California.”

“New York?”

She rolls her eyes. “Because both New York City and Metropolis are in the state of New York, and they are Gotham’s sister cities. And if we need to look into the matter of a certain flying alien, it would be good if I could flash a badge that was actually valid in that state.”

“Fine.” He pauses. “And speaking of the alien, we have a four o’clock interview with Clark Kent and Lois Lane today. They’ll probably go for both a joint interview and individual ones. I’ll take Lane, you take Kent.”

“Not that I’m turning down the chance to be interviewed by an alien, by why insist?”

“Brucie likes women. If the press—and various government agencies’ psychological evaluations—are to be believed, Kent is a boy scout. He may be amused if you take the smartass route, but you are capable of charming him.”

“You think I’m charming?”

He shoots her a flat look. “Head tilt,” he says succinctly.

“Point taken.”

“You can also cry on demand, and our cover story involves you being a victim for two years. Play to his weaknesses.”

“So, the damsel in distress schtick. Got it.”

“If you cry, Brucie can become overprotective. Would be good to try and assess his strength.”

“Oh, so this is all a ploy so you can attack the invulnerable alien who has super strength and can fly. Should I even be surprised?”

“It’s not an attack, merely an assessment. If you recall, our first training session was in a similar vein. We’ll do it at my penthouse downtown. Alfred will arrange for the chopper to pick you up here at quarter to four. Do not be late, and do not be early. I want to meet them before you do.”

“At the penthouse? Why not here?”

“I have an interview with Vicki Vale at two-thirty.”

“So?”

He gives her a Brucie leer. She rolls her eyes.

“Just make sure you use protection, Bruciebear.”

He snorts. “What do you want me to tell Jake Kane when I see him today?”

“Nothing. Just be cryptic. I’ll set an appointment with him when I get back to Neptune.”

“Hnn.”

“Anything else?” Veronica says as they head back to their rooms to shower and change in time for breakfast.

“If I can get Echolls here for the party…”

Veronica frowns. “I thought I told you he wasn’t even sure he could get liberty?”

“Sst. Should I be able to secure his presence in Gotham on Friday, may I give him the ‘shovel talk’?”

His arm snaps up to catch the bottle of water she throws at his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With regard to the duo’s plans for Tony Stark, I had a very rough draft for a Veronica Mars x Iron Man 1 crossover that I shelved in favor of this series (and by “very rough” I mean that in no way or form is it ready to be posted or even beta read). I’m not sure if I’m just going to rehash salient points for future installments in this series or fix that draft up for a full fic. Depends on how much time I get outside of real-life obligations, I guess.


	24. Interview with the Alien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Veronica finagle an interview with a certain mild-mannered reporter from Metropolis.

When Veronica shows up at Bruce’s penthouse that afternoon, she finds the two Metropolis reporters already there along with a man who looks not much older than Veronica, an irritable-looking CJ Cregg, and a somewhat disheveled, obviously sexed-up billionaire. Lois Lane’s distaste at Bruce’s antics and her outrage at his near-constant come-ons is almost comical.

Introductions are made, and the young man, who has a state-of-the-art camera that makes Veronica drool just a little bit, introduces himself as Jimmy Olson, photographer for _The Daily Planet_.

The two reporters outline their plans for the interview: they’d like to interview the two of them together, then split up. Bruce agrees, with one condition—Veronica stays in the room, and Lane handles his interview. Lane is not happy with the arrangement.

“You try anything, Kent, and I’ll make sure you won’t find media work anywhere in the country,” he growls.

Lane hesitates. “Why don’t I take the interview with Ms. Mars and—”

“Oh no! I’d rather be interrogated by a woman as lovely as yourself than a big hulking brute like your partner here. I simply wanted to explain a few things to him.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “I’ll be fine, Bruce. Mr. Kent seems perfectly nice!”

Lane sighs, then nods vigorously. “She’s right, Mr. Wayne,” she says, apparently resigning herself to interviewing Brucie. “Smallville here might be big, but that’s just because they grow them that way in Kansas. He’s as gentle as a puppy.”

“Thanks, Lois,” the “puppy” says, just a touch sardonically. Veronica likes him better for it.

Bruce flops back on the couch, sighing loudly. “Fine. Let’s get on with it.”

“Actually, Mr. Wayne, Ms. Mars, we were kind of hoping we could start with photographs? So we don’t lose the light.”

Bruce waves a dismissive hand. “Sure. Where do you need us?”

Veronica turns to Olson. “Can you give Bruce a few minutes to get himself in order?”

“Nica,” Brucie whines.

CJ catches Veronica’s eye and mouths _thank you_. Veronica smiles before fixing her face into a scowl and turning to Bruce.

“Brue, you look and smell like you just hopped out of a bed you left occupied by at least one woman. Or man. Whatever.”

“Actually—”

“I’m glad you had fun, but I am not going to be photographed with you while you look like a lech,” she tells him promptly. “It’s bad enough all these silly Brunica posts are popping up all over the internet. Please go and ask Alfred to help straighten you out.”

“I’d be happy to, Miss Veronica.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with three strangers,” Bruce bites out, scowling. Veronica watches Lane and Kent exchange glances at the statement and the tone it’s delivered in.

She lets out an exasperated noise. “They’re not strangers, Brue, we’ve all been introduced. Plus, CJ can stay with me, and you will literally be in the next room over.”

“I can certainly stay with Veronica,” CJ says placidly. “I am experienced and more than well-equipped to defend the honor of intelligent young women from a pair of reporters who mean no harm.”

He crosses his arms stubbornly. She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Compromise. You leave the door open, but if you give Mr. Olson here a shot of your junk, CJ will kick your ass.”

“Fine,” he says, then stomps toward the bedroom, calling for Alfred to follow.

“Sorry about that,” she tells the three Metropolitans. “He’s a little overprotective.”

Lane’s face softens. “It’s no problem,” she says, moving to pat Veronica’s hand, then seemingly decides against it. “From what you said at yesterday’s press conference, it sounds like having each other’s backs kept you both alive.”

“It absolutely did,” Veronica says. She leans back in the couch. “So since we’re waiting on Bruce, I wanted to ask you about your alien.”

When the two reporters just stare, she prompts them. “Superman? I’ve been reading up on what’s been going on around the world since I disappeared, and the big guy seems to be one of the biggest bits of news. I know your paper writes about him often.”

“Maybe a little too often,” Kent mumbles, then lets out quiet grunt when Lane elbows him in the gut.

“Superman is amazing, and he’s the best thing to ever happen to Metropolis,” Lane pronounces.

“I understand you’ve been saved by him a time or two? And he’s given you exclusives!” Veronica shakes her head as if in wonder. “To think that there are such beings in the world, the people he could help, the lives he could save. And has, from what I understand from the media.”

“Does it make you angry?” Kent asks suddenly.

Veronica frowns. “Angry?”

“The idea that someone could be so powerful. There are a lot of Superman hater groups out there, you know. I imagine that, with everything you’ve gone through, it might be hard not to feel resentful that someone like him, who could hear a baby’s cry from the other side of the world, never came to your rescue in all the time you were held captive.”

Well. Veronica finds the intensity in his voice telling. It seemed the Man of Steel had a few insecurities. She lets her heartbeat rise just a bit. “Off the record?” She pretends she doesn’t see CJ narrowing her eyes at the words.

At a nod from both reporters (Kent actually makes a point of showing her his recorder isn’t on), she says, “Mr. Kent, if someone, alien or otherwise, had the power to do something about things like, well, terrorist kidnappings and all manner of things evil people do, I’d like to think they’d take action if they knew about it. But Last Son of Krypton or not, this Superman of yours is only one man, which is a limitation if and of itself.”

“So would you say you’re a fan?” Lane prods. Veronica struggles not to roll her eyes at the oversimplification.

Veronica tilts her head at the reporter who matters, even as she answers the woman’s question. “I don’t think so? I mean, it’s not that I don’t think what he’s been doing isn’t good or necessary. I’d have to reserve judgment since I don’t know the guy, which means I have neither right nor reason to be angry—or to be a fan, for that matter.”

She shrugs, makes a show of backtracking a little. “I literally heard the name ‘Superman’ for the very first time just yesterday. It does seem like he’s good for your city, though. I can only hope he continues to do as conscience dictates.”

“And Gotham?” Kent again. “Do you think he’d do well to turn his attentions to Gotham, which has the highest incidence of crime and suspicious death or assault than any other city in the country?”

 _He’s fishing_ , she realizes. “Seriously, don’t quote me on this, because it’s not like I’m a native son of Gotham like billionaire Brucie over there,” she says, gesturing toward the bedroom door, which is half open.

“Screw you, Mars!” Brucie calls.

She laughs, then shakes her head. To the reporters (actually, just to Kent), she says, “If he commits to becoming Gotham’s protector, who’s to say he won’t do a lot of good? But he would need to stay committed. Gotham has enough problems, and it doesn’t need another would-be hero biting off more than he could chew then abandoning the city to its fate, as others have done before it.”

“Superman would never!” Olson counters hotly.

Kent’s eyes narrow. “Gotham doesn’t have any protectors,” he says evenly.

She snorts. “Not for want of trying. If you do research, as I did before I got captured, you’ll find a few have attempted to measure their dicks against Gotham’s ills, especially during the heyday of the Justice Society of America. But those who thought they could use Gotham as their proving ground barely registered as blips in the city’s history.”

“So you think Superman would try, then either fail or just give up?” Lane is pissed. Veronica makes a note of her emotional investment.

She shakes her head. “You misunderstand me. I wasn’t casting judgment on Superman, per se. I was talking about Gotham. We know, for example, that it has a higher incidence of serial murder and crimes against women than any other _state_ —any time you look at New Jersey’s stats in comparison to the rest of the country, there’s always a footnote about Gotham.”

Both reporters look thoughtful at this, so she zeroes in for the kill. “This city breeds a peculiar kind of villain, Ms. Lane, Mr. Kent. I think it would need a peculiar kind of hero too, and one who could give it his or her complete attention. I admire Superman’s abilities, but I don’t think he’s the guy for the job—and from what little I have read of his personality, I don’t think he would want to be.”

Okay, time to ease up. She shakes herself, as if remembering who she’s talking to, then holds her hands up in a what-are-you-gonna-do kind of gesture and smiles guilelessly. “But what would I know? I’ve been stuck in a terrorist compound and have been phone- and internet-deprived for almost two years.”

“I can personally attest to the fact that she complained about this every single day,” Brucie says airily, wandering back into the room with a grin on his face and spring in his step. He looks like he walked off the pages of a magazine; his hair is perfectly coiffed, and his cobalt blue three-piece suit is impeccable and makes his eyes shine like sapphires. Bless Alfred.

“Well, now I feel underdressed,” Veronica says, grinning. She’s wearing black skinny jeans, Nyssa’s boots, a cherry red scoop-necked shirt, and the leather jacket Logan gave her.

“You look beautiful, as always,” Brucie says gallantly. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

They pose for photographs while Kent and Lane conduct the joint interview. CJ watches the entire tableau like a hawk. Brucie flirts with both Metropolis reporters, much to Kent’s discomfort and Lane’s outrage. Veronica pulls him back whenever she sees Kent blushing hard or that murderous glint in Lane’s eye.

Otherwise, they answer the questions easily enough; Veronica knows they give good interview, and the way the muscles around CJ’s mouth relax subtly confirms it.

It helps that Kent and Lane are obviously skilled at their jobs and share a good dynamic.

Lane is obviously the alpha dog in their partnership; she occasionally edges in on Kent’s questions, and he lets her. She also tends more toward hard facts and heavy-hitting topics, asking questions about the terrorists, the conditions of their holding cells, the brutality of the guards, the rescue operation from their perspective, and the Wayne Bounty.

Kent, in turn, is obviously more about the human interest side of things, asking them what their days were like as hostages, what they thought about and felt, about their developing friendship, about the reactions of their families when they returned, and how they’re coping, one day later.

Bruce stays close, actively touching Veronica (keeping a shoulder against hers, holding her hand, even hugging her once or twice) while they speak about their supposed time in the terrorist cell. Veronica notices that Kent hones in on it fairly quickly, while Lane only notices the more overt gestures.

Bruce pushes the humor and flirtatiousness when things get heavy, as if trying to cover for his discomfort, and while Lane gets more aggressive, Kent actually gentles, even deflecting his partner a time or two. Bruce picks up on it just like Veronica does, tapping out a warning to be careful around Kent when he has the opportunity to grasp her hand. She smiles at him and tips her head in the slightest of nods.

“I hugged it out with my dad,” Veronica says when Kent asks what they did first after leaving the press conference yesterday. “We cried a little, but don’t tell him I told you that. He’d probably think it messes with his badass sheriff reputation back home. Then I took a really long, really hot shower. Indoor plumbing? I am _never_ taking it for granted ever again.”

She says the last bit so fervently, everyone laughs.

“I did the same,” Bruce says, then frowns. “Um, the shower, not the hugging and the crying.”

Veronica frowns. “Did you not hug Alfred?”

“Alfred is British.” Bruce says this like it’s supposed to mean something outside of the color of the man’s passport and the starched tones of his accent.

“I certainly am, Master Wayne,” Alfred says, entering the living area carrying a heavily laden tray. Veronica stands to help him with it, but he simply sweeps past her and starts placing teacups, a teapot, and a two-tiered tea tray loaded with scones and delicately cut sandwiches on the coffee table.

“Bruce Wayne, are you telling me that you did not give Alfred the biggest hug in the history of hugs when we got to your house?” Veronica demands, scowl ferocious, arms akimbo.

“Nica,” Brucie whines, “you don’t understand. He’s _British_. And he’s my _butler_.”

“What does that have to do with the price of potatoes in Pittsburgh?” she snaps. She hears Kent cover a snort with a cough.

“I believe, Miss Veronica, that what Master Bruce is trying to tell you is he thinks such gestures might be inappropriate.”

“Oh, please. He’s spent the entire interview trying to talk his way into _both_ Mr. Kent’s and Ms. Lane’s pants, and you’re telling me he thinks a hug for the man who raised him after his parents died is inappropriate?”

“I would never presume—”

“Stuff it, Alfie.” Veronica points at Bruce then to the floor beside her and Alfred. “You, here, now.” Bruce trots over obediently. “Now, hug your British butler. You know you want to. Then apologize for thinking him being British or a butler is any excuse for you to be a dick.”

“Nica,” he whines. He’s glaring his Bruce (or is it Bat?) glare at her, but she has a lot of practice ignoring it.

“Now, Brucie.”

Awkwardly, he leans forward and puts his arms around the man who is his father in everything but name. After a moment, Alfred hugs him back. And after a moment more, Bruce’s stiff posture relaxes, and he just holds on.

“Sorry, Alfred.”

“It’s quite all right, Master Bruce.”

Jimmy Olson snaps a photo of the two men that will be Veronica’s favorite from the entire media storm surrounding their return. Then he snaps another one, which shows Veronica with a knowing smirk on her face as she watches the billionaire hug his butler, and it becomes Bruce’s favorite.

“That was a nice thing you did,” Clark Kent tells her when they settle down to the solo interviews. Veronica insists on being near the food, so Bruce petulantly piles a saucer high with food, grabs his teacup, and leads Lane over to one side of the room.

“Try these blueberry scones, Mr. Kent. They’re absolutely divine.” She smiles, nibbling on one herself. “And those two needed a boot up the behind, if you don’t mind me saying.” She stretches out a leg, wiggles her leather-clad foot. “I was dressed for the job.”

The large-framed reporter laughs. “I like you,” he says after a moment.

“You sound like you didn’t expect to.”

His smile only widens. “I didn’t,” he confesses. “Admire and respect you, yes. Sympathize with what you went through, certainly. But I didn’t think I’d like you. I can’t afford to like most of the people I interview.”

“Guess I’m just a special snowflake, then.”

He laughs again and shakes his head. “The reports about what you were like before you were captured were so varied, I found it hard to figure out what was truth, what was spite, and what was spin doctoring. And seeing as I do this for a living, I’m usually good at telling the difference.”

“Well, thank you, I guess?”

He adjusts his glasses and leans forward, gaze openly curious. “So which would you say is the true Veronica Mars? The hard-edged taser-wielding investigator who stopped at nothing to uncover the lies and corruption in her town, or the grieving sweet-hearted girl who just wanted to help her friend and others find justice?”

Veronica narrows her eyes at him. “You tell me,” she challenges.

“I thought the latter was hype,” he tells her frankly. “And after what you said about Superman, I thought the former was probably the real person. But now I think they’re both you. And I think there’s a lot about Veronica Mars the world hasn’t seen yet.”

She grins, happy with his answer. “Maybe so, maybe so, Mr. Kent. For one thing, you’ve never seen me ace a pep squad routine or tasted my famous snickerdoodles.”

“I would be honored to try your snickerdoodles, Ms. Mars,” he says solemnly. Then he makes a gesture toward his recorder. “Okay if we get started?”

“Sure, but I insist you have a scone while I answer your questions.”

He backtracks to her history, not rehashing what’s known about her investigations and supposed death. Instead he asks her about how she started out as an investigator, about growing up in Neptune, about her passion for justice.

He asks how she first got involved in the hunt for Bruce Wayne. “It was a case for a client,” she says. When he registers no surprise, she nods. “You already knew that. And you know I’m not going to release any names to the press until I’ve spoken to said client. But I can tell you the client wanted Bruce found, and had no interest in the Wayne Bounty should I qualify for the reward.”

“Which Mr. Wayne confirms you do.” When Veronica wrinkles her nose just a bit, he tilts his head. “Why don’t you want it? I think everyone would agree that if anyone deserves it, it’s you. And Mr. Wayne, when he regains control over his assets, can well afford it. I think his net worth totals around $52 billion.”

“Yeah, I really don’t know why those idiot terrorists didn’t ransom him,” she says, shaking her head. “And we’ve talked about it a lot. He doesn’t know either. He _gave_ them Alfred’s number right after he woke up. He told me gave it to every one of the captors who spoke to him after he was captured. He kept trying, every time we were moved someplace new.”

“I’m sure there will be an investigation into that,” Kent says. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

She smiles. “Persistent, aren’t you—what was it Ms. Lane called you? Smallville?”

He looks sheepish. “It’s my hometown,” he says. Which she already knows. “It’s in Kansas.” She knows this too.

She’s tempted to shake him because there’s so much about the town that’s weird thanks to a violent meteor storm that killed a number of people shortly before his adoption. The paperwork had been rather dubious. Any decent investigator would connect the dots and learn his secret identity.

And yet here he is, handing a person who is now famous for digging up dirt on people the key to unravelling his life. Seriously? She wonders if it’s naïveté or overconfidence.

“All right,” she says. “The truth is, if I’d found him after following the admittedly twisty trail he led me on in his search for enlightenment or whatever it was that had him hoping from city to city then country to country like a demented bunny rabbit—”

Kent laughs, eyes alight.

If he wasn’t so cheerful and earnest looking, he’d actually resemble Bruce quite a bit, with his black hair and blue eyes. Although his eyes are a bright, sunny-sky shade of blue rather than Bruce’s darker sapphire ones, and his hair is glossier than the billionaire’s as well (proper conditioning will fix that for her friend, and Veronica reminds herself to insist that Brucie would be fastidious about self-care).

“Anyway, if I’d found him then, I would have happily taken the bounty. It’s damn good investigative work, if I can say so myself.”

“I don’t think anyone doubts that it is,” Kent says warmly. “Hundreds have tried to follow the same trail you did failed. So what changed?”

“What changed is I followed that trail right to the group that kidnapped him and got myself abducted and another woman killed for the trouble. Then Bruce and I spent the next two years, or nearly that, watching each other’s backs, antagonizing guards just enough so that they didn’t think we would be easy prey but not enough that they would kill us and wash their hands of us.”

She takes a deep breath, lets her heartbeat accelerate just a bit—if his hearing is as sensitive as they say, she figures he can probably hear it—and lets her eyes tear up just a bit.

“You have to understand, Mr. Kent. We saw to each other’s cuts and bruises and broken bones. There were times when I was missing home so bad, I would tell Bruce that it would’ve been kinder to just kill me. We made a deal that we were going to go home together, that we wouldn’t let each other give up.”

Kent makes a noise of distress. Veronica turns her artfully wet gaze on him and gives him absolute truth with her next words. “I wouldn’t be alive without him. After that, taking his money seems… cheap, I guess. Even though he’s been really, _really_ stubborn about giving it to me, and he’s backed me into a corner by announcing it at the press conference.”

Kent places one of his large hands on her arm. It is utterly gentle, as is the expression on his face. Despite this, Veronica stiffens because some part of her brain is able to recall the video she watched just that morning, where he used one of those hands to crumple a handgun into a ball of twisted metal.

“ _Get your hands off her_.” Bruce’s voice is hard and gravelly, and his face is furious.

In the next moment, he hauls Kent up by his collar and punches him in the face, laying the reporter out. Veronica winces at the meaty sound of impact. He pulls his arm back to deliver another blow while Kent cowers on the floor. Veronica jumps into action and tugs him back.

“Bruce, stop!” she shouts. “I’m okay! Let go! Alfred, CJ, help!”

The butler moves swiftly to assist her, pulling Bruce off the reporter as Lane crouches over her colleague and Olson stands to the side, snapping photo after photo. CJ is checking the large reporter for injuries.

“What the hell, Wayne?” Lane shouts, absolutely infuriated.

But Veronica has already pulled Bruce several feet away. He has made a show of tugging her jacket off to check her arm, so she lets him, patting his shoulder as best he can. “I’m okay, Bruce, he wasn’t hurting me.”

“You were _crying_ ,” he accuses, putting his hands on her elbows and bending so he can look at her face. To an outsider, it must look like he’s checking on her, but in reality, he’s tapping out a quick message with his thumb on the inside of her elbow. _Good work. Kent’s invulnerability real. Hit him hard, he won’t even bruise_.

“I was _emotional_ ,” she tells him, one part of her mind tracking his tapping digit. “I’m allowed to be. So are you, but not so much that you hit people who aren’t doing any harm. We were rescued. We’ll be okay. It’s a lot to take in. But he was only trying to comfort me.”

He just grunts. She notices the skin on his knuckles are split, and they’re already beginning to swell. He might has well have punched a concrete wall, it seems.

“ _Bruce_ ,” she scolds. “Apologize to Mr. Kent.”

The reporter is standing again, letting Lane fuss over him. He’s making a show of holding his jaw, although Veronica knows Bruce actually punched him in the eye. His glasses are askew, but the lenses aren’t broken, and she wonders how he managed that. “It’s fine,” he says. “Lois, I’m fine. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have touched Ms. Mars.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Bruce says, perfectly calm, although he’s flexing the hand he used to punch Kent and breathing a little hard. Veronica imagines he’s elevated his heart rate and is making a show of trying to calm it down without attracting anyone’s attention but Kent’s. “But I apologize if I overreacted.”

“Well, apology _not_ accepted, asshole!” This from Lois. Veronica gives her points for loyalty while she does her best to diffuse the situation by tucking herself into Bruce’s side and hugging him around the middle.

“It’s fine, Mr. Wayne,” Kent says again. He looks thoughtful, even sad, as he watches them. Veronica decides he really _is_ a boy scout, though a hopelessly naïve one. “I apologize for overstepping my boundaries as well.”

“I’ll get some ice for your jaw, Mr. Kent,” Alfred says, heading out the door. “And for Master Wayne’s hand.”

“Thanks, Alfred,” CJ says. To the reporters, she gets right down to business and asks, “What’s it going to take to keep this little incident out of tomorrow’s paper?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This fic is “book 1” in my Veronica Mars and the Justice League series. Of course Superman’s going to be a major character at some point, even though the soul twindom of Bruce and Veronica will need to be factored in when considering the best friendship of the World’s Finest.


	25. Talk Is Cheap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Veronica do a couple more interviews and get checked out by the doctors. Veronica is so over #Brunica. Meanwhile, Bruce throws his weight around.

Veronica notes CJ is surprised by how easily the reporters agree not to mention Bruce’s outburst in their article, but she supposes the older woman doesn’t notice how deliberately self-effacing Kent is being.

He obviously doesn’t want it reported either. A punch that would split a man’s knuckles would definitely leave a bruise on the recipient’s face, and his remains flawless in a way that can’t be explained by the application of ice to his jaw.

Still, the three Metropolitans are invited to Bruce’s birthday bash on Friday night, an offer they are happy to accept. News of the party is already making the rounds, and invites are greedily coveted by the world’s best, brightest, richest, and most desperate for attention. It’s bound to be Candyland for any reporter.

CJ scolds Bruce all the way back to Wayne Manor for his lack of restraint and even stays for dinner so she can catalogue the ways he misbehaved today. One of the worst being that he hadn’t informed her of his interview with Vicki Vale, and then had proceeded to seduce the reporter (or allow himself to be seduced). Veronica is complimented on her handling of Bruce and the reporters from the _Planet_.

When Bruce very obviously stops listening, CJ rolls her eyes and throws up her hands. “Fine, but so help me god, if you punch out another reporter this week, your ass will be introduced rather violently to my stiletto. Have I made myself clear?”

“Perfectly,” Bruce says with a smirk.

Then she delivers the good (or bad, if anyone were to ask Veronica) news.

“I have you booked for the _Today Show_ on Thursday morning and _Good Morning America_ on Friday. Alfred assures me he can get you guys flown into New York on the Wayne Enterprises chopper for both. Then, Bruce, I want to fly you out to LA next week for Larry King and Ellen so Veronica can join you. I’m not sure I want you in live interviews without Veronica for the time being, after your performance today.”

“I’ll be fine, but I’m happy to fly out with the Marses this Sunday. I want to see Neptune. Veronica owes me ice cream from someplace called Amy’s, and I owe her manicotti from someplace called Luigi’s. She wouldn’t shut up about either of those places when we were in the clink. I swear there were whole days when she talked about nothing but Italian food.”

Keith starts laughing, and the rest of the Neptune-based people around the dinner table follow suit. “Of course that’s what Veronica would obsess on, even when being held hostage,” he says, wiping his eyes. “Honey, don’t ever change. I would freak out if you started going around eating nothing but salads and smoothies.”

“Logan used to say Veronica must have an undiagnosed tapeworm, from how much she can eat,” Mac adds, giggling.

“You guys just have no respect for the proper appreciation of good food,” Veronica grumbles. Everyone laughs.

“Back to the subject of your public appearances,” CJ says after the family trades banter over the dinner table. “Alfred’s already taken care of ordering several suits for Bruce’s media appearances. Veronica, I’ll come over tomorrow night after you guys get back from the hospital to go over wardrobe options.”

Veronica slumps in her seat. Brucie claps his hands delightedly. “We’re going to play ‘Dress Up Veronica’!” he exclaims gleefully. Mac, Wallace and Keith start snickering when they see Veronica’s sour face.

After dinner, Veronica escapes to her room to talk to Logan, who is amused by Bruce’s antics. “I see what you mean about the similarities between him and Lilly,” he says, before sobering. “Veronica, don’t take this the wrong way…”

“Uh oh. That sounds pretty ominous,” Veronica teases, though she’s frowning. What has him so worried?

“It’s just… Remember when we used to joke about your get-out-of-jail-free cards?”

“Uh huh. I never really had any, you know. Just my wits and my charm.”

He chuckles. “Clearly, those were more than sufficient in Neptune. But did you by any chance use a hypothetical get-out-of-jail-free card to get me out of OCS for the weekend?”

Veronica frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“I got called into the CO’s—that’s the commanding officer’s—office today after training. He informed me that, if I passed all my drills and my RLP inspections and didn’t make trouble, I could take off-base leave from Friday after training until 0800 hours on Sunday. I could receive an extension on the limitations on my leave to allow me to travel to Gotham to see you if I named you the next of kin on my paperwork.”

Veronica frowns. “Is that something you want to do?”

“Absolutely, if you’re willing. Right now, I have Dick listed on there, and I think you see why that could prove problematic down the line.”

She chuckles. “Yeah. Though he’s been a good friend to you, so I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Still, I’m happy to do it. Do you need me to sign any paperwork?”

“I can bring it with me, then I’ll need copies of your IDs and stuff once you’re legally alive again.”

“Can do.” She frowns. “So what’s the problem? What do you think I did?”

“Veronica, my CO brought this up before I’d had the chance to ask anyone about how requesting weekend leave might work so I could come visit you. He already knew your name and why I wanted to go. He had the damn paperwork ready and filled up.” There’s a tinge of anger in Logan’s voice. “So I’d like to ask you if there’s anything you’d like to tell me.”

“Oh shit.” She sucks in a breath, scrabbles to think of why that might be. Remembers how Nyssa inserted herself into a Navy operation, how Ra’s has agents in militaries all over the world.

“What did you do, bobcat?”

“Um.” She’s still panicking a bit when the truth hits her—and it’s mercifully a truth she can tell him about. She sighs. “I think I know what happened. It wasn’t me.”

“Care to enlighten those of us who remain in the dark?”

“It was Bruce,” Veronica says flatly, getting up from bed to stalk out of her room and over to Bruce’s. “He asked me this morning if I wanted to invite anyone from Neptune to the party and I said the only one I had in mind was you, but that you were still going to have to figure out the off-base liberty situation. He made a joke about making sure you could come so he could give you the shovel talk, but I told him we were doing the platonic friendship thing.”

“Now, growing up as I did, it would seem hypocritical of me to be angry at anyone for pulling strings, but—”

“Oh, it would, would it? Well that’s just fine. I can be angry for you.” Veronica pounds on Bruce’s door. “Bruce! Open up. Logan, I’m putting you on speaker so the idiot can explain himself.”

“Veronica, that’s not nec—"

The door opens just as she sets the phone to speaker mode. Bruce is wearing nothing but silk boxers and is toweling his hair dry.

“Oh gross. Put on some clothes so I can yell at you.”

“I’m not naked.”

“Well, you need to be wearing more than your boxers before I talk to you. I’ve got Logan on the line and he’s asking me what I did to get him permission to come to Gotham this weekend.”

She follows Bruce into the room, then waits by the door as Bruce goes to the closet to pull out a loose pair of pants.

“Bobcat, are you in a naked man’s room with me on the phone?”

“He’s not naked. He’s wearing boxers.”

“That’s what I said too, and yet you made me put on pants,” Brucie says as he emerges from the walk-in closet. He’s actually pouting, despite the fact that he can clearly see Logan is on audio only. Because apparently he’s method like that. “There. Satisfied? You can yell at me now.”

“What the hell did you do?”

“Is that Logan on the phone?”

“Yes, now what did you do?”

“Hi, Logan! Can I call you Logan? Nica, you shouldn’t frown like that. Your face will get stuck that way.  You said you wanted to see him. I didn’t want you to be sad, so I thought I’d see if it was possible for him to come over. So I went online and looked for what I could find out about the navy, but there was just way too much information to go through, so I just found their Twitter and asked the internet.”

Veronica drops her head into the hand not holding her phone. “Oh, Jesus fuck, please tell me you’re lying.”

“Why would I lie about something like that?” He holds out his WEPhone. “Here, you can read it for yourself. Plus, I said it was a hypothetical question.”

“I just pulled it up,” Logan says. His voice is a mix of resignation and amusement. “He tagged the official account of the US Navy.”

Veronica reads Brucie’s tweet in a kind of fascinated horror.

@BruceWayne had tweeted, _If I wanted someone training for the @USNavy to come to my birthday party on Friday, hypothetically, how would I make that happen?_

She reads the tweet aloud. “How in the hell do you sell this question as hypothetical?”

“‘Cause I said ‘hypothetically’ before I asked. Don’t ask silly questions, Nica. Don’t you always tell me that? Anyway, the US Navy didn’t answer but someone named SECNAV did. They sent me a message and asked if they could call, so I said yes, and they called the manor, so Alfred patched it through.”

“And then what?”                                                                                                                       

“I talked to Director Jenny—she said I could call her that when I asked—and told her how you and I were back from the dead, which she already knew. And I told him you told me your oldest friend was in officer school and that’s why he couldn’t be there with everyone to meet our plane. So I said I wanted to invite him to my birthday party for you, but you said he might not get to leave the base. She said she’d see what she could do.”

“Is that Director Jennifer Shepard, the Secretary of the Navy?” Logan’s voice sounds odd, strangled.

Bruce takes the phone from Veronica. “Hi Logan! I guess so? She was really sweet.”

“Jesus, no wonder my CO was shitting bricks. And hi, I guess.”

“Did she get you out? Can I send my plane for you? Nica really wants to see you. And I want to meet you!”

“My leave is conditional on my earning liberty this week, so I won’t know for sure until Friday afternoon.”

“Well, I’ll tell Alfred to have the pilot on standby so he can fly up once you give the word.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Nonsense! Nica wants you here, and the plane’s just sitting in the hangar anyway. So let her know when you know, okay? Alfred can help with a costume. Director Jenny said you’d need to get it approved cause you guys have a dress code even when you’re not on base. So work it out with Nica and Mac. Alfred’s a genius and can get you anything if you tell him your sizes.”

“Uh, all right. Tha—”

“Nica, are we done talking now? I wanted to ask you about that reporter who interviewed you earlier. I’m not so sure about the guy, and I don’t know if I like that CJ invited him to my party.”

Veronica sighs. “I’ll come back in a bit. Let me just finish up this phone call, okay?”

“Sure, Nica. I’ll keep my pants on and everything.”

“Thank you kindly,” she says, voice dry as dust. She leaves the room and gets off speaker phone. “Lo?”

“Now I really see what you mean about having a male version of Lilly Kane on your hands,” he says, amused. “Didn’t she mention they were related once?”

“You’re not mad.” She breathes out a sigh of relief. “And, yeah, Bruce’s mother was a Kane, though the Gotham Kanes are a few degrees removed from their California cousins.”

“No, bobcat, I’m not mad. The guy might not be very subtle about it, but he’s a good friend to you. And me, by extension, I guess.”

“I’m rolling my eyes really hard here,” she tells him. “Pretty sure ‘subtle’ would be one of the last adjectives people would use to describe Brucie.”

He laughs. “Yeah. Sounds like it. And, hey, it means I get to spend the weekend with you, if I and my classmates can stay out of trouble for the rest of the week. I’ll bribe them if I have to.”

“I guess I really am a bad influence on you,” she teases.

“Nah, you’re the best.” His voice is utterly serious.

“I really hope you can come, Lo.”

“Me too. Now, I guess I’d better let you go so you can explain to Brucie that the invite to his party was the bribe that’ll keep his little PR disaster out of the papers tomorrow.”

She sighs. “Gee, thanks.”

“We all must have our burdens in life, sugarpuss. It seems irrepressible Kanes with a flair for drama and no sense of decorum are yours.”

“Oh, brother.”

“Well, you did say you’d decided to adopt him.”

She facepalms.

After she and Logan say their goodbyes, she goes back to talk to Bruce about Clark Kent.

Her assessment: Superman appears to be a nice guy who obviously cares about people. Bruce and Veronica agree that he has admirable control over his super strength (after all, his touch on Veronica’s arm had been very gentle, and his hand when he’d shaken Bruce’s had been firm).

Bruce decides that the alien could use some training in subterfuge. “When I took him down, there was a moment when gravity appeared not to apply to him, then he seemed to remember that humans don’t float and fell to the ground,” he explains.

Veronica in turn points out her frustration with Kent’s poor protection of his secret identity, a rant that leaves Bruce smirking, and his obvious naïveté and earnestness. Bruce agrees that the Man of Steel may be prone to manipulation and brings up several secret government reports that speculate on the effectiveness on mind control over the alien.

Then Bruce surprises Veronica by suggesting they undertake the task of helping the alien cover up his identity.

“It’s leverage against him,” Bruce explains. “I’d rather it be _our_ leverage than someone else’s.”

“Bruce, I _liked_ him, even if he is kind of a doofus about keeping his alter ego secret.”

“Not a reason not to take precautions. It’s a better reason to do it, actually.”

“Fine. But you don’t pull on that lever unless absolutely necessary,” Veronica warns him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“No, ma’am.”

“This is because I said you don’t have a sense of humor, isn’t it?”

“Of course not, ma’am.”

“Ugh. I’m going to bed.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They train in the morning, and Bruce talks to her in Farsi, telling her he doesn’t want her to grow rusty. She explains that she’s spoken to Leslie and convinced the doctor to do only basic, non-invasive exams for the both of them.

“She won’t hold off forever, but it will give us some breathing room.”

“Acknowledged. We’ll be better situated to manipulate the results and scans in a couple of months.”

“You know you’re going to have to tell her about the Bat eventually. Alfred says he’s willing to play emergency medic but will absolutely call Dr. Leslie over if you receive any injuries that require more than a few stitches and simple fractures.”

So they subject themselves to the tests while dressed in hospital gowns. The doctor and nurses don’t attempt to separate them and make it a point to explain everything they’re doing as they are doing it.

The x-rays, as predicted, show a history of training-related injuries, but these are easily explained away as having been received during beatings from their captors. Leslie is suspicious about the nicked rib from Veronica’s knife wound, but both Bruce and Veronica clam up at her questions. Bruce becomes aggressive when she pushes, so she drops the subject.

Bruce’s brain scans are left for last. “I can’t see anything that would be worrisome, although it would be better if I could use some more sensitive equipment and consult with a specialist,” Leslie says.

He sighs. “No more tests, not now. You can consult if you keep it anonymous. Is that better?”

“Yes, Bruce,” Leslie replies, smiling sadly at him. “You know I would never betray your secrets, right? That’s even if I wasn’t legally and ethically bound to doctor-patient confidentiality.”

Bruce looks stoic. “I’m sorry, Leslie,” he says finally. “It isn’t a reflection of my opinions on your professionalism, I promise. I’m just not comfortable with doing more tests right now.”

“It’s all right, dear boy,” she says warmly and a little tearfully. Veronica feels horribly guilty about lying to the kind doctor. “You just let me know when you think you might do better with it. For now, barring anything showing up in your lab results, you both seem surprisingly healthy, given the conditions you both were found in. I’ve put a rush on your bloodwork and other lab results, so I should be able to update you on Friday morning.”

“Do we have to come back?” Bruce asks, his face pained, voice pleading.

She shakes her head. “It’s your birthday. I’d be happy to make a house call after breakfast.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The New York talk shows focus mostly on fluff topics, much to Veronica’s disgust. And that dreaded portmanteau, Brunica, is brought up with alarming frequency. Every time it is, Veronica scowls fiercely while Bruce adopts a shit-eating grin.

“I know you guys know you’re trending on Twitter as #Brunica,” one host teases. “Bruce, you’ve been a pretty vocal supporter of it.”

“Well,” he says, smiling idiotically, “it’s like I said when we first arrived. I’d marry her in a minute, if she’d have me. Do you know how hard it is to meet a woman your butler approves of?”

“No, I can’t say I do,” a female host replies, leaning forward just a bit.

Bruce’s smile widens at the proffered view of her cleavage. “Nearly impossible,” he says dramatically. “Also, she keeps refusing my money!”

(Bruce and Veronica had once more ousted Superman from the front page of _The Daily Planet_ the day after their interview with Kent and Lane. Kent had written a particularly effusive article called _The Unsolved Mystery of Veronica Mars_. Logan had teased her mercilessly about it, as had Mac, Wallace, and even Keith.)

“You’ve already bullied me into accepting it, you showboating sap!”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “See? Completely ungrateful. Isn’t she sweet?”

“Veronica, why don’t you want to take the reward money for finding Bruce?”

“Because I didn’t find him. I followed a trail and got snatched by terrorists who tossed me into a cell with him next door. I’d take the money in a minute if I’d earned it.”

The billionaire looks at the camera and shakes his head sorrowfully. “She keeps saying I don’t have to give her the reward. Then _I_ keep saying she didn’t have to give me her food when she annoyed our guards into giving her extra. Now I have extra—quite a bit of extra, actually.” He grins when the audience laughs, but forges on. “And she’s acting like I’m trying to give her measles instead of money!”

“Well, I see this is a debate between you two that isn’t going to end anytime soon.”

“Oh, it will end. She’ll just wake up one day soon to find the money in her account, and she won’t be able to transfer it back.”

“We should all be so lucky!” one of the hosts jokes.

“So back to the hot topic of the #Brunica trend. What about you, Veronica? Any words on whether #Brunica is likely to happen?”

She valiantly resists the urge to roll her eyes, pinning an amused expression on her face as she shakes her head. “No way, no how,” she says cheerfully. “I like Bruce too much to marry or even date him, unless we were faking it for a case I’m working!”

The hosts and the audience laughs at her words and Brucie’s accompanying pout.

“So, no romance for you on the horizon, Veronica? Jake Kane has come out and confessed to being the client who initially hired you to find Bruce, citing your solving his daughter’s murder and helping his son win custody of his grandchild as the reason he was so confident you’d be able to find the missing Wayne heir even after several years. I understand his son, Duncan Kane, is an old flame of yours.”

Bruce looks thunderous, but Veronica just laughs. “Duncan and I were over in high school,” she says amiably. “I’ll probably still see him around from time to time—Neptune isn’t exactly a big town, and his kid is my goddaughter—but our lives have taken separate paths. That doesn’t mean I don’t wish him well.”

The host, having had one lead fizzle out, forges on. Coyly, she asks, “And what about Logan Echolls? You were famously dating right before you uncovered his father’s alleged guilt in the Lilly Kane murder case, and we’ve seen photos showing you as a couple in your freshman year of college. The tabloids suggest his wild run through Hollywood and Neptune’s nightlife a year and a half ago was caused directly by the news of your death.”

The screens show blown-up versions of several photos of Logan and Veronica together, looking very much like the couple they had been when the images had been captured.

“You sure do put a lot of stock in what you read on the tabloids,” Veronica observes dryly. The host turns just a little bit red when the crowd laughs.

“Seriously, though, Logan and I have had our ups and downs, and now we’re working on being friends. I can’t and won’t speak for him, but I can tell you I’m not going to jump into a relationship anytime soon. I’m focusing on getting my life back on track, getting a degree, spending time with my family and finding out what I missed in my friends’ lives.”

This spurs another host to ask Bruce about his own plans, which gives Bruce the perfect opportunity to mention how he’s meeting with the folks at the Wayne Foundation and looking into old projects in need of revitalization and new projects that can be adopted.

The show ends with the audience’s laughter and applause after one of the hosts tells Bruce and Veronica about how their story has inspired a lot of people, then asks them to share their advice for anyone facing adversity. The blonde-and-blue meets black-and-blue, and the pair grin at each other before turning to the camera and saying in perfect unison, “Don’t get kidnapped.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession time! I’m really addicted to those fanfics centered around press interviews, media appearances, and social media posts of the main characters (whether from Veronica Mars or the DC Universe). So I threw another sequence in, but this should be the last of such indulgences (for this fic, anyway). Other fluff follows.
> 
> Also, slight mention of another TV show in this chapter: the character of Director Jenny Shepard was played by Lauren Holly for too few NCIS episodes, in my opinion.


	26. Tech Support and Other Necessities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mission is discovered before Batman has a chance to begin. Somehow, it works out just fine. Also, Bruce Wayne is secretly a troll.

After their return from New York on Friday morning, they find Leslie waiting at the manor. Since Bruce had hacked the lab that had run their results, they are informed of several (nonexistent) vitamin and mineral deficiencies that they will need to take supplements for, but otherwise given a clean bill of health.

The Neptune group, with the exception of Mac, spend the afternoon playing tourist in Gotham, accompanied by a couple of bodyguards to keep the press at bay. Mac is hip deep in computer code and mumbles something about a conference call with one of the engineers she’s been working with at Kane Software, so Bruce and Veronica are left to their own devices.

Having foregone their morning exercises due to the early call times required by their TV appearances, Bruce and Veronica decide to spend the afternoon training in the ballroom. They instruct Alfred to come and find them when the rest of the family is headed back, then proceed to run through acrobatic drills and eskrima exercises while discussing plans and strategies for the party that evening in Nihongo.

It’s during their final sparring session that disaster strikes. Veronica has just launched herself into the air to dropkick Bruce in the chest when the door opens. Expecting Alfred, neither Bruce nor Veronica reacted to the soft footsteps approaching the far door.

“Holy shit!”

Veronica twists in midair at the sound of Mac’s voice. Bruce sidesteps her kick, and as she passes him, grabs her, throws her to the ground, and rests his knee on the small of her back. “You haven’t let me catch you like that in months,” he scolds, still in Japanese. “And your breakfall was sloppy.”

“Fuck you, Bruce, there were extenuating circumstances,” she replies in English.

“There are always extenuating circumstances. Lose focus like that in a real fight, and you’ll be dead,” is all he says, still not letting her up.

“Hey, not to interrupt your argument or anything, but what the actual fuck, guys?” Mac’s eyes are practically bugging out of her skull, and her phone is on the floor in front of her. She doesn’t even move to pick it up.

“Um, hi, Mac!” Veronica says, smiling despite the fact that her face is pressed into a floor mat. She waves one hand sheepishly. “I guess I forgot to tell you I’m kind of a baby ninja now?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Explain to me again how you weren’t actually captured by terrorists, but kind of were,” Mac says, frowning. They are in Veronica’s room. Bruce has left them to it, after giving Veronica the go-signal to tell her friend everything.

“See, some people in the intelligence community have labeled the League of Shadows as a radical group of eco-terrorists. At least, that’s what Clarence Wiedman told me they were.”

Mac shakes her head. “Bond, my brain hurts. I can’t believe this stuff. It’s like something out of one of Max’s comic books. So basically Bruce trained you in scary ninja-spy-assassin stuff because this guy, Ra’s, said you could either stay and train or be killed along with any family or friends who tried to follow your trail back to him?”

“In a nutshell.”

“And it was all some grand conspiracy to find out who was trying to upset the status quo in the organization?”

“Yup.”

“So then he just let you and Bruce go because you did good?”

“Yup.”

“And he wanted to wipe Gotham off the face of the planet but you _charmed_ the genocidal maniac into giving you guys an extension?”

“Yep. If you think about it, it’s kind of like a quest. The Prince of Gotham has seven years to save the city.”

Mac’s eyes narrow. “Now is not the time to cut the bad guy some slack. Making deals with egomaniacs is how you got into trouble in the first place.”

“Aww, but look, I got a brother out of it!”

“Yeah, well, he’s not exactly sane either. I don’t know if you guys are bad for each other or made for each other. Like cosmic twins or something.”

Veronica laughs. “I’ll have to tell Bruce that one.”

“So there’s no way you can tell people about him so he can get punished like he deserves because anyone you tell is dead.”

“Well, anyone I tell that I don’t claim responsibility for keeping silent, so you’re safe as long as you don’t tell anyone.”

“Shit, Bond.”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, I got that part. Now what’s this about a mission?”

“Oh, that. It’s what Bruce has planned for rehabilitating Gotham, I’d guess you’d call it.” So she tells Mac about that too.

“The Bat? He’s going to swoop around dark alleys dressed up as a giant bat?” Mac giggles.

Veronica shakes her head ruefully. “I promise you, it was his idea, not mine.”

“What about you?” Mac asks. “I mean, if you’re moving out here and helping him, you’re going to need some kind of costume too, right?”

The blonde PI shakes her head. “The idea is for me to work mostly in daylight hours, in my capacity as an investigator. At night, he’s going to need someone at home base to monitor stuff like traffic cams, target movements, the police scanner, that sort of thing.”

“So you’re on tech support?” Mac has a funny look on her face.

“What? I can do tech support. And it’s also _tactical_ support.” Veronica frowns.

“You don’t get what I’m saying, Bond.” Mac’s face is as serious as she’s ever seen it. “You don’t need to be on tech support.”

“Well, someone needs to be. Bruce can’t just go out blind. I’m the best option for it.”

“You aren’t,” Cindy “Mac” McKenzie tells her best friend. “I am.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Veronica stares at her friend, mouth agape. Then she snaps her teeth together with an audible click.

“No.”

“Yes.” Mac is nodding, and Veronica wants to grab her face and make her move her head horizontally instead of vertically because what the ever loving frack? How did this happen?

“Mac, I’m not going to drag you into this.”

“First of all, Bond, in case you haven’t noticed because we’re sitting here arguing about this, you’re not dragging me into anything. I volunteered. Enlisted. Whatever you wanna call it.”

When Veronica opens her mouth to launch another protest, Mac holds up a hand.

“You can talk later. It’s my turn now.”

Veronica huffs in annoyance. “Fine.”

“My second point is that I may not have seen you in nearly two years until you walked out of that plane on Monday, but I _know_ you, Veronica. You’re not a tech support kind of girl. If Bruce gets into trouble, you know you’ll end up going yourself. That would’ve been true even before you learned to kick ass physically instead of just with the power of your awesomeness. Me? I know my limitations. I’ll stay put, especially if I know you and Bruce can help each other.”

Veronica fidgets under the hacker’s steady gaze. Mac glares, and she stays silent.

“Third point. I’m just way better at tech support than you are. You plan to monitor the traffic cams on the city grid? I can hack into them and point them at what I need to see. I can do the same with stoplights, redirect traffic so you can get to where you need to go faster. That’s not something you know how to do, unless they had hacking classes in assassin school.”

“They did, actually,” Veronica mutters. “But I didn’t take them.”

Mac smirks. “Moot point, then. Now the fourth thing—”

“Oh, come on.”

Mac shakes her head, and her eyes turn flinty and cold. “Fourth point. You’re my best friend and I already lost you once, when we all thought you’d died in that car bomb. I’m personally invested in keeping you safe, and that means keeping Bruce, whom I also happen to like a lot, safe too.”

“We are not your responsibility in any way, shape or form,” Veronica says stubbornly.

Her friend just glares at her. “You don’t seem to understand yet how much you dying affected all of us. Not just Logan. If I can keep it from happening again, then I will. So if you’ve accepted this mission, then so have I.”

“Q, I can’t let you do this.” Veronica’s eyes are damp. “I don’t want to put anyone else in danger.”

Mac’s chin goes up. “You’re not _letting_ me do anything, Bond. I’m telling you that I’m doing it.”

Veronica’s shoulders slump in defeat. “Let’s go talk to Bruce.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When they knock on Bruce’s door, he barks out a curt, “Enter.”

Mac gapes (and drools a little) when they are met with the sight of a topless Bruce Wayne doing rapid chin-ups from a heavy-duty exercise bar set up on one side of the room.

“Oi,” Veronica says. “Can you quit distracting Mac with your abs? We need to talk.”

“Did she convince you to break up with me and stay out of my mission?”

“Nope.” She pops the P and grins evilly.

He drops to the floor, grabs a gym towel, wipes his face down, and slings it around his neck. “What.”

Mac is still staring at his abs. Veronica elbows her in the side. “Um. Hi Bruce.”

He grins. It’s one of his rare Bruce grins, rather than the slightly lopsided Brucie grin that’s quickly becoming a trademark on TV and social media. “Hi Mac. Guess Veronica laid most everything out for you.”

“Yeah, or the salient points, I guess.”

“Did you have any questions for me?”

“Just one, actually.”

“Shoot.”

“When do I start?”

Bruce is taken aback. He looks at Veronica, who shrugs. “Excuse me?”

“I’m joining the team.”

“No.”

They lock eyes for a moment, then Bruce rounds on Veronica. “You’re not dragging her into this.”

Veronica’s lips twitch. “That’s what I told her.”

“I’m not putting anyone else in danger.”

“I told her that too.”

Bruce glares at her, then turns that glare on Mac, who stumbles back half a step, then stiffens her spine. Her chin comes up again. “She did, actually, tell me exactly those two things. Like, it’s almost freaky how similar you guys are. But it didn’t work. I’m gonna take over what Veronica calls tech-and-tactical support so you can have _actual_ support if you’re going around Gotham fighting criminals while dressed up as a bat.”

His jaw works in annoyance, and he continues to glare.

“FYI,” Veronica says, starting to enjoy herself now, “he can keep up that glare indefinitely. I suggest building up immunity.”

Mac smirks. “Noted, Bond.” Then she looks up—honestly, Mac isn’t much taller than Veronica is, so they both have to look up quite a ways whenever they want to look Bruce in the face—and presses her lips in a grim line. “I’m going to outline my argument for you like I did for Veronica.”

And she does.

Bruce doesn’t say a word. He just goes back to the exercise bar and continues to do chin-ups.

“Uh, good talk?” Mac calls out. “I guess that’s that, then.”

He pauses in the middle of a chin-up and just holds himself in the air as if thinking about something. “Send me your CV and turn in your notice for your internship at Kane Software. I’ll have a Wayne Tech contract and packet couriered to your home next week.” He switches to one-armed chin-ups.

“Hey, wait! I didn’t say anything about—”

“You want on the team? Take the job. I need an in at Wayne Tech for outfitting purposes. Brucie won’t work.”

When Mac just looks confused, Veronica grins. “Brucie is his flirty loudmouth public persona. The Bat, or Batman, as I like to call him, is his dark, growly vigilante persona. The real Bruce operates on a slider somewhere between both of them.”

“So like multiple personalities?”

“Nah,” Veronica says. “Boy’s got a million problems, but DID ain’t one. He’s more like a method actor. Like, _really_ method. Brucie slept with a reporter the other day.”

“Also this morning in makeup.”

“Are you _serious_?”

“Hnn.”

“I hope you buy condoms in bulk,” Veronica mutters. “Which one?”

“Hmm?”

“Which one did you sleep with?”

“Brucie doesn’t kiss and tell. Also, how sure are you it was just one.”

“Ohmigod. I’m leaving to bleach my brains. Come on, Mac.”

“Don’t forget your boyfriend is coming for dinner, then we’re leaving at ten.”

The invite to the party read nine o’clock. Of course Brucie is going to be fashionably late. Wait. “Logan is _not_ my boyfriend. We’re just friends.”

“Hnn.”

“We are! We decided neither of us is ready for a relationship right now.”

“Hnn.”

“I thought you believed me when I told you all of this the other day.”

“You were serious?”

“Yes! We’re just friends.”

“Friends with benefits?”

“No! Like friend-friends. Platonic friends!”

“Hnn.”

“What?”

“Got to tell Alfred to prepare a room for him after all.”

“You… You expected him to stay with me? In my room?”

“You haven’t gotten laid in over three years. I suspect an interlude would improve your mental and emotional state. You implied you enjoyed it with Echolls, and he was your last partner. He is flying down to see you.”

“So you thought that meant we were going to fuck?”

“I am encouraging it.”

“You’re encouraging it.”

“Yes, as your trainer.”

“Why would you even—?”

“Research suggests a healthy sex life would result in an improved immune system, lower systolic blood pressure, reduced levels of stress and anxiety—

“You’re prescribing sex. For my _health_.”

“Once or twice a week would be ideal, so he would not be an optimal long-term partner as the navy assigns—”

“ _Bruce_. You can’t just—Lord, where do I even start?”

“I discussed it with Shiva during your training. She agreed with me, but we could identify no viable male candidates among the Shadows or initiates, as you had identified as heterosexual.”

“You wanted to pimp me out to some assassins, but couldn’t find a nice guy among them,” Veronica translates numbly.

“It was not an urgent concern then. When our return was imminent, she and I revisited the issue. It is not yet a necessity, but we agreed the benefits would outweigh the inconveniences.”

“Oh. My. God.” Veronica facepalms. “You and Shiva discussed the benefits of getting me to fuck my ex-boyfriend.”

“We had not specified a partner, but Echolls is the only tolerable option who has presented himself at present.”

Veronica narrows her eyes at him. He blithely continues to do chin-ups. He hasn’t broken rhythm this entire time they have been talking.

“Do you mean to tell me you have considered other options but decided against them?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

Mac is just staring at them as they go back and forth. “You guys are really intense,” she mumbles. They both ignore her.

Bruce hesitates.

Veronica seethes. “Who?”

“Jake Kane suggested his son would be amenable—”

“What the fuck? I would sooner join a convent. No, I’d sooner cut his dick off.”

“Agreed. I turned him down on your behalf, although I could not disinvite them from tonight’s party.”

“Why would you even tell me this? I mean, I knew he was coming. I saw the guest list. But now you tell me my ex’s dad tried to pimp him out to me?”

“Not in so many words. It was merely implied.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“He was not the only option.”

“What?”

“For a moment I had considered the alien—”

“ _WHAT?_ ”

“You seemed to find him reasonably attractive. And ‘nice.’ It would be useful to obtain a biological sample and to test the functions of his—”

“Holy demented pimp juice, Batman, I am NOT going to fuck Superman! And especially not so you can use me to collect some kind of biological sample. Eww! I cannot believe you! What is _wrong_ with you?”

“I am concerned about your welfare.”

“Oh my god.” Veronica sits down on the floor and holds her head in her hands. Mac crouches down and pats her shoulder comfortingly, a gesture completely ruined by the fact that the brunette is giggling helplessly, tears streaming from her eyes. “Oh my god, I hate you so much. I think I’m going to unadopt you.”

“I am told that is what all sisters say of their elder brothers at some point in their lives,” Bruce says gravely. “It is a passing phase. You will love me again after I present you with an adequate bribe or execute a suitably emotional gesture.”

“You’re such a prick.”

“I know. But I thought I’d prove to you that I do have a sense of humor when not using the Brucie persona.”

Her mouth drops open and she stares, completely flabbergasted. “You… you… _That’s_ your idea of a joke?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“It’s not funny.” She glares at him. If she could shoot lasers out of her eyes like the alien he’d just teased her about, he would have been vaporized already.

“I beg to differ.”

“It’s not. You’re not.”

“I’m so-sorry, B-Bond,” Mac says, her voice still quivering with laughter. She’s now sitting on the floor beside Veronica, her legs having lost the ability to carry her weight from laughing so hard. “But I have to side with Bruce on this one. The _look_ on your _face_!”

She hoots and dissolves into laughter again. Bruce is grinning as he does a few more chin-ups then comes back and drops to the floor in front of them.

“I hate you so much,” Veronica moans.

“I only worry because I care,” he says solemnly. “And I am an excellent wingman.”

Mac gives up and just flops onto the floor, holding her stomach as she laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I had not planned to bring Mac in quite so early in the game. But I wanted Veronica out of the Batcave, and Oracle doesn’t exist yet. And given my timeline has Bruce coming back to Gotham around 2009 or 2010, I imagine he’d have a tough time carrying out his mission in the age of smartphones and social media. 
> 
> So obviously, he’d need someone to take point on that, and Veronica, while tech-literate, just doesn’t have the chops at this point. So I chewed on this dilemma and the solution I spat out was to have Mac come in and save the day. Because I love Mac to bits.


	27. Undead, Not Unattractive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang gets set for Brucie Wayne’s welcome home and birthday bash. Veronica sparkles. Logan is appreciative.

Alfred sends someone from the security team to pick Logan up from the airport. Veronica had hoped to come, but the press is still camped outside Wayne Manor, and the logistics of making sure she gets out then back in without being recognized and then mobbed are just too much trouble.

“It’s fine, Veronica,” Logan told her the night before—they had taken to talking on the phone every night, although their conversations have not been as intense as that first one was. “I’m grateful for the pickup. I’d be happy to take a cab.”

They’ve finally allowed themselves to become optimistic that this weekend leave is going to happen. Logan’s classmates are surprisingly supportive when he tells them about her return from the dead, though he does get a lot of ribbing—they’ve taken to calling him Cinderella. Veronica suspects not all of the fallout has been positive or lacking in spite, but Logan firmly tells her not to worry about it.

“Alfred says sending the car for you is a better option. Otherwise, the press would probably mob you at the gate.”

“Is it worse than my house after my dad was arrested?”

“Hmm, maybe not, but there’s the added element of the fact that we’re in Gotham, and security isn’t a thing to dick around with here. It _is_ worse than your house after your dad got stabbed by that caterer.”

“So bad enough. All right. Now _I’m_ insisting you stay in and not pick me up. You wouldn’t want to get this friendship started with me mad at you, would you?”

“Fine,” she’d said, laughing. “It’s gonna be a madhouse here anyway. People are coming in to do our makeup. Bruce, Wallace, my dad, and Alicia are going all _28 Days Later_ on us. Mac is going for the Klingon-style _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ effect.”

“And which one are you going with?”

“Are you kidding? Moi? No, definitely not taking either of those options! I’m donning baby fangs and a shit ton of glitter.”

“So _Twilight_ is your big inspiration?”

“Yep. Will you really be in costume? I mean, you don’t have to. I know there are rules, several of which Bruce has already bent.”

“As it happens, I have had my costume idea approved. It’s undead-themed, if a little underwhelming in creativity or lack thereof.”

“Well, are you going to keep me in suspense?”

“Not worth it. Mac sent me a few options, and I’ve decided to take inspiration from Wesley Snipes in _Blade_.”

“With the shades, body armor and combat boots?”

“Yep. And a sword.”

“Cool!” ( _Actually, HOT_ , Veronica thinks, but she’s not about to test the boundaries of their newfound platonic friendship and say it aloud.)

Now, Veronica is standing in the entry hall of Wayne Manor. The limo Logan was in had arrived at the gate five minutes before and had had to inch slowly through the small sea of reporters camped outside.

“Good evening, Mr. Echolls.”

“Hi, uh, Mr. Pennyworth, isn’t it? Veronica’s told me a lot about you.”

“Indeed, sir. You may call me Alfred. Miss Veronica is right inside.”

Then Logan is coming through the door, and Veronica is—for real—wringing her hands, she’s that nervous. She ignores the amused looks her traitorous former friend, Mac, is casting her way. “Hi, Logan,” she says shyly when he comes through the door and stops to stare at her.

“Veronica.”

They just stare at each other for a moment. In rapid-fire thoughts, she catalogues all the ways he is different since they last saw each other two years ago. He’s bigger, buffer—Mac is right on that point. His is lean surfer form has filled out from the rigors of getting Navy-fit. His hair is in a buzz cut, which is a bit of a shocker after the frosted tips of his youth.

He’s wearing a tucked-in polo shirt and khaki pants with leather shoes in a look that is way more preppy, wholesome and oddly formal than she has ever seen him in. Still, the look in his eyes is 100 percent Logan Echolls, and her mouth has gone dry.

“Oh, come on, just hug each other already. Geez.” There’s that traitorous friend of hers. No respect whatsoever.

Nevertheless, Mac’s words galvanize Veronica, and she takes one step, then two, then flings her arms around Logan’s middle and hugs him hard. His arms immediately come around her and squeeze tightly.

“It’s good to have you back, bobcat.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Mac and Veronica show Logan to his room, which is beside Mac’s, after Alfred reminds them that dinner will be served in fifteen minutes. Logan sets his duffel bag in the closet and freshens up after his trip before they head down to the dining room.

Meanwhile, Veronica and Mac admire the costume that’s been laid out for Logan. “This is pretty impressive,” Veronica says, stroking the soft leather of the trench coat. She lets her hands drift over the armored vest and stills. Taps a finger on one of the hardened plates.

“Alfred’s nothing if not thorough,” Mac agrees. “That looks so real.”

“Mmmhmm.” She wonders if she should tell Mac the armor _is_ real.

“He told me he helped you find your costume too, but he wouldn’t show it to me.”

Veronica grins. “You’ll just have to wait and see like everyone else.”

“You know, it’s a good thing I talked to Alfred about Logan’s costume,” Mac says, giggling.

“Any particular reason, despite Alfred’s magical house elf abilities and general awesomeness?”

“When I mentioned it to Bruce, he had to look _Blade_ up on Google. Then he said, ‘I have several swords he can use to complete his ensemble.’ And he showed me his collection. One of which was a katana that was hundreds of years old. When he saw me looking at it, he asked me if I wanted to borrow it for Logan’s _costume_.”

The blonde PI just rolls her eyes. “Brucie is just so extra.”

“That’s the thing, though! It wasn’t Brucie, it was _Bruce_ ,” Mac says, shaking her head. “I seriously think you underestimate the guy’s sense of humor.”

“Nah, I have a healthy respect for Bruce’s sense of humor. It’s just that he hardly ever smiles or laughs and can maintain a joke for a year without delivering the punchline if he wants to. Plus, he’s perfectly happy to leave things so nobody gets the joke but him. Can you imagine if he turned his powers to pranking? There would be no end in sight.”

“For what?” Logan says, emerging from the bathroom.

“Ah, nothing, just musing over the excessive tendencies of Veronica’s new brother-figure,” Mac says cheerfully. “I mean, I thought _you_ were Mr. Over-the-Top Behavior. Then I met Brucie Wayne. And he’s just getting started.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

“Well then,” Veronica says, smiling brightly, “no time like the present, huh?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They run into Bruce at the top of the grand staircase, because timing is one of Bruce’s secret super powers.

“Ah, the infamous Logan Echolls!” Brucie says, smile wide, eyes dancing, voice bursting with delight. “It’s good to meet you in the flesh at long last! Veronica’s told me _sooo_ much about you.”

“It’s good to meet you too, and happy birthday,” Logan says, offering a hand for Brucie to shake. The billionaire promptly uses their clasped hands to pull him into a hearty hug and slap him on the back jovially, stunning him. “I’ve, ah, been hearing a lot about you too, Mr. Wayne. Thank you for making this visit possible, and for having me in your home.”

“Mr. Wayne!” Brucie echoes in horror, pulling back from the hug. Mac and Veronica stifle giggles at Logan’s relieved expression. “You’re not calling me Mr. Wayne! Not when you’re Nica’s oldest friend! Call me Bruce, or Brucie! And _mi casa es su casa_ , as long as you stay on Nica’s good side!”

“Stop overusing your exclamation points, _Brucie_ ,” Veronica says, rolling her eyes. “And let’s go to dinner before Alfred has to come find us.

“You’re so strict, Nica,” Brucie whines. But he offers his arm to Mac. “ _You_ won’t be a party pooper, will you, Mackiemacmac?”

“Course not, Brucie,” Mac says cheerfully. “After all, it _is_ your birthday.”

He beams. “That’s right! It is! I can’t wait for my party later. Oh, Logan—I _can_ call you Logan, can’t I?—if you need a makeup artist for your costume, there’s a team of them coming over at eight, which is why we’re having dinner so early. We’ve ordered a bunch of fake vampire fangs and contact lenses too.”

“Nah, all I need is a pair of shades,” Logan says easily.

Dinner is fun-filled and casual, everyone talking excitedly about their costumes. Logan and Veronica endure good-natured ribbing for choosing the most conservative costumes, and Bruce points out that while Logan has an excuse, Veronica does not. She just sticks her tongue out and tells him to wait and see.

“You’re going dressed as a vampire from a _teen novel_ ,” Brucie complains. “A romantic one.”

Wallace grimaces. “Yeah, what’s up with that, supafly? I never would’ve taken you for a _Twilight_ fangirl.”

“There are movies now, apparently,” Veronica tells Bruce. “And I’m not actually going as one of the characters, just allowing my costume to be inspired by their world building.”

Brucie waves a dismissive hand. “Whatever. But you better not just put on a black dress, skip the blush, stick on fangs, and call it a day.”

Mac looks thoughtful. “You obviously haven’t read the books, have you?”

“They didn’t have a lending library in the terrorist compound,” Bruce replies blithely. “So you’ll have to excuse my ignorance.”

“Oh, snap, Mac attack!” Wallace laughs.

“Don’t worry about my costume, Bruciebear.” Veronica grins. “And if you aren’t impressed by it, I’ll make you cookies tomorrow. Just do me a favor and look up _Twilight_ on your phone while you’re having your makeup done.”

His eyes narrow. “What kind of cookies?” he asks, voice rough.

“Dude takes his food real serious,” Wallace whispers to Logan. “Never seen anyone negotiate for food like him and V do. They both out eat all of us, too.”

“Your choice,” Veronica tells Bruce. “And if I win, you help Mac and me find a self-defense trainer when you come to Neptune next week, and you don’t get to pay for him.”

“I was going to help you pick someone anyway,” Bruce grumbles.

“And I was going to bake cookies anyway,” Veronica says. “But if I have my way, you don’t get to throw your money at me. And if you have yours, you get to pick the kind of cookie you’ll be having for afternoon tea.”

“Fine.”

They shake on it.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Logan keeps Veronica company while she gets her makeup done, telling her about life as an OCS student. The makeup artist works silently and efficiently, whitening Veronica’s skin for undead pallor before beginning to apply silver glitter makeup, so it’s easy to keep up a conversation.

“You know, Casey Gant mentioned he’d be here tonight,” Logan says. “I don’t know if you remember him.”

“Yeah, of course! How is Casey? Has he taken over his grandma’s publishing company?”

“Huh. Guess you and Casey were better friends than I realized,” he muses. “When did that happen? He wasn’t even in our class. He was a year ahead of us.”

“My dad worked a case for his parents back in high school. I went to his grandma’s funeral.”

“Oh. Yeah, he’s fine. He works out of Gant Publishing’s New York office. Seems a bunch of CEO-types got invites to this shindig.”

“Yeah, about that.” Veronica bites her lip. “Bruce told me Jake Kane RSVPed, and he might be bringing Duncan.”

“Great,” Logan says flatly.

“You don’t have to talk to him,” she says. “I probably do, at least for a little while, but you can totally avoid him the whole night or for however long he’s there.”

“I might,” Logan says.

When Veronica’s hair and makeup are done and both of them have vampire fangs stuck to their canines, Logan leaves so he can put on his costume while Veronica dons hers.

They are the first people to appear in the living room. Logan has beat her there, and he’s checking his phone, shades dangling from one hand, when Veronica walks in.

She whistles when she sees him. “You look totally badass,” she says.

Logan looks up, and his gaze turns heated.

Veronica is wearing a dress that would’ve made her a hit in a Victorian brothel. It’s just this side of skanky, with full white petticoats and a burgundy skirt that end mid-thigh. Although her upper arms are covered in black lace three-quarter sleeves that end in white lacy frills, he is treated to a pale expanse of chest, her breasts pushed up by the dress’s a corseted top.

Her legs are encased in sheer lace stockings that end above the knee, leaving a pale expanse of thigh visible—and attention-grabbing, because the skin is covered in a light layer of glitter that catches the light whenever Veronica takes a step. And speaking of steps, she’s wearing calf-high boots with killer stiletto heels.

Her hair falls in tousled golden curls—she’d cut it short, but is wearing extensions tonight—and a tiny bowler hat is affixed to the top right side of her head.

“What do you think?” she asks lightly, though the look on his face sets her pulse to pounding.

“I think Bruce is gonna lose the bet,” he replies, voice rough.

“Aww, fuck, Nica,” Bruce says from behind them. “I guess you’re gonna have to pay for your own martial arts instructor when you go home to Neptune.”

She turns to looks at Bruce and sighs. “Brue, are you seriously not wearing buttoning up your shirt? It’s _February_. In _Gotham_.”

“The makeup artists said they had this idea for body art, and there were too many of them cause Logan didn’t use one. So we did this, and it’s so awesome I’m not covering it up.”

The art _is_ impressive. Bruce has been made up to look as if bits of his skin have been ripped or rotted off, though in such a way that he still looks like he walked off the pages of a magazine. He’s wearing a white buttondown shirt with “blood stains” on it that he hasn’t bothered to button down, plus jeans that hang low on his hips. She’s pretty sure the press (and Mac) is going to go gaga, because the makeup and body paint don’t cover the fact that his abs go on for days.

“You’re going to freeze your tits off.”

Bruce grins lasciviously. “I’ll find someone to warm my cold, dead self up.”

“Gross.”

As the rest of the family joins them, there are exclamations over everyone’s costumes. Keith makes an absurdly cute zombie, for example. Mac catches Veronica’s eye, points to Bruce, rolls her own eyes, and mouths the word _extra_ in a way that makes the blonde PI giggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to imagine Veronica’s costume? Think steampunk chic for the outfit paired with a kind of snow queen glitter makeup look. I’m talking a TON of glitter here.


	28. Party People or Party Poopers?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than one of Veronica’s old flames comes to Bruce’s party. Plus, there are a few uninvited guests.

They take the stretch limo because CJ wants the press to get photos of them as they enter (since they invited so few reporters to the actual party). The cameras begin flashing madly as soon as they emerge from the limo. CJ, dressed in a Morticia Addams-style outfit, directs them down the red carpet, though she has Bruce and Veronica stop to pose for photos at strategic points.

Veronica finds herself envying Logan his sunglasses. She also realizes she might not have thought her costume through in terms of photographs because the camera flashes are setting the glitter off like crazy.

She mutters as much to the two people nearest her—Bruce and Logan—and the men end up laughing at her.

“Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne! Can you tell us who you’re with tonight?”

“Well, you guys know the woman who’s absolutely sparkling beside me is my former cellmate Veronica Mars,” Bruce says cheerfully, “and these are her friends and family.”

“They probably can’t see it’s me from how hard I’m sparkling,” Veronica says, to the chuckles of nearby reporters who overhear the comment.

“Ms. Mars, what costume are you wearing? Are you a vampire or a zombie?”

“Or an undead fairy?” one reporter calls out.

“I didn’t think of that!” Veronica says. “What the heck even _is_ an undead fairy? But tonight I’m the kind of vampire that sparkles in the sun. Or, you know, camera flashes.” She smiles and makes sure to show some fang.

“Ms. Mars, Mr. Wayne! Are you sure there isn’t any truth to the rumors that you’re an item?”

“I wish!” Bruce says cheerfully, his standard reply to this question. “She still won’t have me.”

But Veronica bares her teeth at the reporter. “I think we would _know_ if we were an item, wouldn’t we, Brucie?” she asks with faux sweetness. Then rolls her eyes. “Come on, guys, how many times do I have to publicly ‘bro-zone’ the poor man before you all get a clue?”

“Well, I don’t think my ego could take any more rejections.” Brucie pouts.

“Let’s just go inside, Brue, before your nipples freeze off.”

Bruce laughs and follows as the tiny blonde grabs one his hands and one of Logan’s and stomps into the hotel. “It _was_ bracingly cold,” he muses, once they’re inside the warmth of the lobby.

CJ rolls her eyes. “Why did you decide to come to a party half-naked? In _February_?”

“You sound like Nica.”

“Because apparently Veronica is the voice of reason in your life,” the former White House press secretary retorts.

Logan snorts. “God help you.”

“Hey!”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The party is in full swing when they arrive via private elevator (as they speed upward, Wallace confesses to having “Alterna-Prom déjà vu,” making Mac, Logan, and Veronica laugh). The moment Bruce walks in, though, the spotlight falls on their group and the DJ switches the music out to some rock song with soaring guitar riffs and a bass that rumbles through their insides.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the man of the hour, the returning Prince of Gotham, the birthday boy himself… Bruce Wayne!”

The room erupts in thunderous applause. Brucie grins and waves like a beauty queen, then all but skips to the center of the elevated dance floor, where he is handed a microphone.

“Thank you, everyone! As you might have heard, the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated, but as my lawyers tell me I won’t be legally alive until sometime next week, I appreciate you all coming to join my undead birthday party!”

The crowd laughs uproariously. Veronica finds herself looking around. She recognizes several A-list actors and Grammy-winning singers in the crowd, not to mention supermodels and socialites.

One woman dressed in a schoolgirl’s uniform and whose zombie makeup is so heavy she is completely unrecognizable meets her eyes, then makes a subtle gesture with her hand. _Hello, little cat_. Shiva.

Veronica smiles and signs her own greeting. _Does Bruce know you’re here?_

_He saw me as you entered._

“Anyway,” Bruce continues, “on a more serious note, I turned twenty-six today, and if you know where I’ve been for the past three years, you’ll forgive me for being maudlin and saying that I never even expected to be alive today. I have one woman to thank for that. Well, one woman, plus the Navy SEALs and the Markovian special forces, but none of those brave folks are here tonight, so I get to put the pressure on the one who is. Veronica Mars! Where are you?”

A second spotlight switches on and searches the crowd before fixing on her.

Brucie giggles. “And there she is, simply shining in her splendor!”

Veronica gives him the finger. “Fuck you, Brucie!”

He breaks out into full laughter, as do the partygoers. “I love you too, Nica!” He grins. “Isn’t she the bestest little sister a guy could find in a terrorist cell halfway across the world?” he asks no one in particular. “Come up here, Nica, and say hi to the pretty people.”

She crosses her arms. “No.”

“Come on, I’ll buy you a puppy if you get up here right now.”

“I have a dog, thank you very much.”

“Please? It’s my birthday,” Brucie whines.

She sighs. “Fine.” She stomps over, accepts someone’s hand up so she can climb onto the elevated area, and stands beside Bruce.

“The one and only Veronica Mars, ladies and gentlemen! Best cellmate a guy could ask for! By the way, she’s undead until next week, too! _And_ she’s single. And hot. So do me a favor, and as a birthday gift to me, if you’re a hot, rich, smart guy, go and say hi to her, okay? Take a good look so you remember what she looks like and what she’s wearing so you don’t accidentally hit on some other random short blonde.”

“Bruce,” she seethes amid hoots and whistles from several of the men at the party, “I’m going to kill you. Slowly and painfully.”

She grabs the mic from him. “Ignore everything Bruce just said, guys. Apparently freedom has gone to his head and rotted his brains like the zombie he’s cosplaying as.” The crowd laughs.

“Otherwise, he’d know that if he keeps this up, this will be his last birthday party and he can fire his lawyers because he will _actually_ be dead.” More laughter.

“However, since it _is_ his birthday, I’m giving him a pass just once. Because he was a pretty great prison-buddy in… well, wherever we were. So, if I can get some champagne here?” A waitress almost trips to deliver the requested beverage as quickly as possible.

Veronica holds up her glass. “I’d like to propose a toast. To Bruce Wayne, on his twenty-sixth birthday. May you never go missing again, asshole, because I will find you and bring you home to your butler even if you manage to get yourself kidnapped _again_.”

Bruce clinks his glass to hers, and they both take a sip of bubbly. She hands the mic back.

“All right! Enough about me and the hot blonde! Let’s party, people!” And on cue, the spotlights switch off, the vari-colored dance lights rove the elevated floor area, and the DJ switches to pounding club music.

Veronica lets Bruce “help” her off the stage. As they turn to look for their friends, three men approach them. Jake and Duncan Kane are wearing matching tuxedos and lame-looking fangs. Clarence Wiedman is wearing a vampire hunter outfit, complete with crossbow.

“Bruce, happy birthday,” Jake says, fake warmth and good-old-guy cheer in his voice. “Veronica, it’s good to see you.”

“Jake,” Bruce says neutrally. “Donkey.”

“It’s Duncan, actually,” the other man says.

“Jake, C.W.,” Veronica says, ignoring Duncan completely. “I was going to call your office to set up a meeting when I got to Neptune next week. To settle the terms of our agreement, and all that jazz.”

“Of course, of course,” Jake says. “I’ll tell my secretary to slot you in whenever you ask.”

“It’s good to see you alive and well, Veronica,” Wiedman says.

“Thanks, C.W.”

“Veronica, can I talk to you?” Duncan asks, stepping in front of his father and Wiedman so he’s standing uncomfortably close.

“You already are,” she tells him, taking a subtle step back. Bruce’s arm comes around her, tucks her into his side. “How’s Lilly? I’d like to see her when I’m back home too.”

“She’s great, and of course you can see her. We’d both like to see you.” He steps forward, reaches a hand out to try to grab hers. “It broke my heart to think you had died.”

Bruce pulls Veronica behind him, dark eyebrows furrowed, eyes all but flaming. “Step back,” he says flatly.

Duncan looks up at the taller man. “Hey, you don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand, but you’re going to step back, walk away, and stay away from her if you know what’s good for you, Kane.”

Jake places a hand on Duncan’s arm, tries to pull him away with little effect. Wiedman does one better, wrapping an arm around Duncan’s shoulders and forcibly turning him away from Bruce and Veronica.

“Sorry about that,” Jake says to the pair. “I guess he’s a little emotional.”

Bruce looks at the older man, gaze flat. “I meant what I said, Jake.”

The California billionaire swallows visibly and nods. “Understood,” he says. “It was good seeing you, Bruce. Happy birthday. Veronica, I’ll look forward to meeting you sometime next week.” He walks away.

“Well, that was fun,” Veronica mutters.

“Forget them,” Bruce says. “Let me introduce you to Tony Stark.”

“Fine,” she says. “I could use something to think about other than kicking Duncan’s ass all the way back to Neptune.”

So he leads her over to the bar, where a goateed man who’s done the absolute minimum in costume preparation is standing and observing the crowd. He’s wearing a high-collared cape over a three-piece suit and drinking what looks to be scotch.

“Bruce Wayne,” Stark says jovially, smile sharp. “Following in my footsteps, I see!”

“Hey Tony,” Bruce says, smiling vapidly. “What footsteps would that be?”

“Oh, you know.” Stark waves his hand airily, and Veronica sees where Brucie got the inspiration for that particular gesture. “Billionaire held hostage by terrorists in some godforsaken part of the world, then coming back when everyone believed him dead. Been there, done that, so last year. At least I made it home before Christmas. Although I didn’t have a pretty cellmate to keep me company.”

Brucie is frowning in obvious confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Tony. But I just came over to introduce you to my friend. This is Veronica Mars. Veronica, Tony Stark. He’s from California, just like you! We took a class together in MIT. It was, I don’t know. Years and years ago. We studied stuff.”

“That’s normally what you do in college,” Veronica says agreeably.

Stark is frowning as Bruce talks. “Bruce?”

“Yeah?” Bruce turns a distracted gaze on the other billionaire, who frowns even harder. Then his gaze swings to the side. “Excuse me. I think I see a woman with my name on her.”

Veronica turns to see what he’s looking at. Sure enough, a statuesque redhead with strategically ripped clothing appears to have Bruce’s name tattooed on her chest. “Be safe, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she calls after him as he stalks forward.

He stops, pivots, smiles hugely. “Aww, but that’s no fun, Nica! Catch you later! Be nice to Tony!”

She sighs. “I hope that woman’s tattoo is temporary.”

“It is.”

She looks up at Stark. He’s not as tall as Bruce or Logan is, but he’s still tall enough she has to crane her neck a bit, even when she’s wearing heels. “I take it you know her.”

“She’s your run-of-the-mill gold digger who just happens to have the right connections to get her into any party on either US coast.” They watch the redhead all but drape herself around Brucie. “What happened to him?”

Veronica glances at him. “I’m sorry?”

“The Bruce Wayne I knew at MIT was a dour bastard even at fourteen, but undeniably brilliant. He could keep up with _me_ even if he wasn’t as interested in engineering as I was. He was probably the only person there who was younger than I was too. And now you’re telling me that man-child is the same guy?”

She turns to the bartender. “Can I get something to drink?” she asks.

“Sure, Ms. Mars. Whaddyawant?”

“A cocktail, something sweet,” she says, then thinks about the theme and her costume. “And red, if you can manage it.”

“On it.”

Angling herself so she can see the bartender out of the corner of her eye, Veronica meets eyes that are sharply intelligent despite the slightly unfocused look of a man who’s drunk more than a single order of scotch tonight. “You liked him,” she says. “Bruce, I mean, or at least you did when you met him all those years ago.”

He smiles ruefully. “Yeah. Well, I liked messing with him, but mostly because he just stood there and took it. He was so quiet you almost didn’t notice he was there until he had a suggestion about some design or other, and then he’d write formulas and solutions so beautiful it could make grown men cry. We were classmates one semester, then I graduated and he’d moved on too. So tell me what happened to that kid.”

“What do you know?”

He shrugs. “I probably shouldn’t be admitting this, but when I got the news, I hacked the Pentagon, got a copy of the report, even watched a video of your debriefing. Their mole reported some kind of personality-changing head injury.”

She smiles. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you admit to a felony.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Touched by his sadness on Bruce’s behalf, she gives him as much truth as she can.

“The people we were with were not good people,” she says simply. “We kept each other safe as best we could, but I’ve still seen parts of him sliced open a time or two, and he’s taken blows meant for me. If he received a serious head injury, I never saw it. But Bruce was already there when I…arrived. I’ve read about what happened to you. I take it I don’t need to explain.”

He shakes his head. “Thanks,” he says and is quiet for a moment. Then he seems to shrug off his melancholy, making the effort to lighten his voice and demeanor. “I guess we could form a club. Rich hostage survivors, or something.”

She smiles. “We could at that, although I’m not rich. Compare war wounds?”

He smirks. “You will be rich when you accept that reward. Plus, I’d win on war wounds, hands down.”

She thinks about the way a blade feels as it slides into flesh under the ribs, tears into organs. “Don’t be so sure.”

“I’m sure.” There’s something dark and ugly in his voice that makes her frown.

She pauses, makes a decision. “Bruce is coming to LA next week. His media consultant wants us to do a couple of talk shows. But maybe you could get in touch with him? Spend some time with him.”

“I don’t know,” Stark says. “I’m not really the best babysitter.”

“Look, Mr. Stark—”

“Call me Tony.”

“Tony,” Veronica echoes obediently. “The Bruce you knew, he’s still there. Maybe he’s a more distractible these days, but keep him focused—as long as it’s not on getting mad cause you’d better believe the man has a temper—and I think you’ll find your friend again. But even if you don’t, maybe you could _be_ a friend.

“Besides my family, his butler and his doctor are the only people he’s seen in the time we’ve been here who aren’t work- or press-related.” She pauses. “And maybe you could use a friend as much as he can.”

Stark downs the rest of his whiskey, calls for another one. Nods. “No promises we’ll braiding friendship bracelets, but I’ll give him a call. Your drink is ready.”

She knows this already, having watched the bartender make it. But she feigns surprise, picks up the glass to take a sip. “Thanks,” she calls out to the bartender, who gives her a small salute. “It’s awesome.”

“Hey Tony! Hey Nica!” Brucie comes over, a woman on each arm, neither of whom being the redhead from earlier. “Are you totally friends now? Cause, you know, you’re both from California.”

Stark smiles mockingly. “Like, totally.”

“Oh, Tony, you’re such a Californian,” Brucie says. “You know, Veronica is too. She’s from Neptune. Have you been there?”

“Yeah, once, but that was one time too many. Jake Kane is an asshole.”

“An asshole who told Veronica to find me, and she did,” Brucie confides. “So I don’t mind inviting him to my parties, I guess. His kid Donkey’s a douche, though. I’m going to Neptune next week when I visit LA! Veronica’s buying me ice cream there. You should come with us!”

Veronica rolls her eyes, but Stark grins. “Maybe I will. You should come stay with me when you’re in LA. I’ll introduce you to JARVIS.”

“Who’s that? Your butler? My butler’s name is Alfred.”

“Nah, JARVIS isn’t my butler. Or, well, I had a butler named Jarvis, but he isn’t who I want to introduce you to. JARVIS stands for Just A Rather Very Intelligent System. He’s a—you know what? Just come and see. It’ll be my surprise.”

Bruce frowns, visibly trying to work out what Tony has just said. “Okay. Can Nica come too?”

“Sure.” Stark pats Bruce on the shoulder. “Have your people call my people to set things up, okay? I’m going to go find a couple of beauties of my own.”

“You have one.” Brucie looks pointedly in Veronica’s direction. “She’s even from California.”

“Bruce, you need to stop trying to pimp me out to your friends,” Veronica says patiently while the two women on either side of Brucie giggle. “And there are literally millions of people from California. Just because we’re from the same state doesn’t mean we should hook up.”

“You need to get lai—”

Stark interrupts him. “Veronica is totally hot, Brucie, but you gotta admit. If she’s too good for you, then she’s way too good for me.”

Veronica shoots him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“As I’ve already said, call me Tony. Those of us in the terrorist hostage survivors club should be on first-name basis.”

“Tony, then. Anyway, I’d better rejoin my friends. Who, incidentally, are also from California.” She rolls her eyes.

“Walk you over?” He gallantly offers an arm, which Veronica takes after setting her now-empty glass on the bar. “See you later, Brucie.”

“Have fun, guys!”

Stark walks her to where Mac and Logan are standing. Veronica introduces them, and Stark immediately falls into a tech talk vortex with Mac.

Logan and Veronica are left in the cold, so Logan looks at her and smiles. “Dance with me?”

She smiles back. “Sure.”

As they get to the dance floor, the song switches to the remixed version of “Time of My Life” by the Black Eyed Peas and David Guetta. Logan’s eyes light up.

“Well, what do you know?” he teases. “I guess I do finally get to dance with you to this song, although I’d originally thought it would be the _Dirty Dancing_ version.”

Veronica laughs and shakes her head, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re such a sap, but don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me, flyboy.”

They end up dancing a couple of songs, then someone taps Logan on the shoulder. “May I cut in?”

Veronica looks up. And up. And up. “Casey? Good lord, did you actually get _taller_?”

Casey Gant, Neptune High graduate and owner of one of the biggest publishing houses in the country, smiles down at her. “’Sup, Veronica,” he says, just as he did when they were in high school. “Really glad you’re not dead.”

She snorts. “Me too. Also glad you seem to have avoided returning to the collective to drink the Kool-Aid.”

He grins. “I do sometimes get the urge to find a campfire to sing ‘Kum Ba Ya’ around, but I’ve learned to ignore it over the years.”

She giggles. Logan stares at both of them. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“I saved him from a cult,” Veronica stage-whispers.

Logan rolls his eyes. “If you don’t want to tell me, you can just say so. That’s a really lame cover story.”

Casey laughs. “If only you knew, dude. But it’s good to see you. Guess the navy’s treating you well.”

“When they aren’t kicking my ass.”

“So can I cut in?”

Logan sighs. “I suppose,” he says. “But beware any Donut-shaped douches. I expect her returned in the same condition I left her in.”

Veronica pouts. “Maybe it’s _him_ who won’t leave in the same condition he arrived in, if he bugs me again.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Logan says, then walks off the dance floor.

She smiles at Casey. “Guess we’re dancing, Mr. Gant.”

Despite being freakishly tall, Casey is a good dancer. The fast number they end up dancing to leaves them just a little bit breathless (well, Veronica feigns breathlessness, anyway, as it turns out Bruce’s training regimen results in a surprising amount of stamina). When it ends, Casey offers his arm for her to hold onto, just as Stark did.

“Hey, didn’t we go to high school with that guy?” Casey asks.

She follows his gaze to the man standing with his arms crossed, a scowl on his face as he talks to someone who’s half-hidden by the crowd. “Logan? Yeah. You guys are friends, remember? Used to surf together? We were talking to him not five minutes ago”

“Funny girl,” Casey deadpans. “I mean the guy he’s so pissed at.”

Veronica takes a second look, only then realizing that the man Casey indicated does look familiar. “Ohmigod,” she says, facepalming. “Kill me now.”

“What? Why?”

“That’s Troy Vandergraff.” She sighs. “On second thought, let’s get over there before Logan kills him.”

Both men turn as they approach.

“Veronica Mars!” the shorter man says delightedly. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“I totally am,” Veronica says. “Just shine a light on me, and I’m liable to blind you.”

Just like that, Logan relaxes. Smirks. “I can attest to that. I was standing right beside you when Bruce called you out earlier. That spotlight hit, and it was a damn good thing I was wearing shades.”

Casey laughs. “You certainly make a very sparkly vampire, Veronica.”

She shakes her head. “How could I have known Bruce would shine a spotlight on me?”

“Weren’t you and Mac just talking about how over-the-top he is? Of course he’d show off his new ‘little sister’ at his party.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for that ‘we’re like brother and sister’ crap they’ve been spouting,” Troy sneers.

“Nothing to fall for if you’re standing on cold, hard truth.”

“Don’t tell me she still has her hands wrapped around your co—”

“That’s enough!” Veronica is almost quivering with fury. “Troy, hi, goodbye, have a nice life.”

“Veronica, I—”

“Goodbye, Troy. See you never.”

He’s just about to say something else when Veronica spots two familiar figures standing close to the doors leading to the balcony. Lois Lane and Clark Kent both look a trifle out of place among Gotham’s rich and idle, Kent in particular.

“Well, I’ve got to go talk to someone,” she says, eyeing the mild-mannered reporter she knows to be a super powered alien. To Logan and Casey, she says, “You guys catch up. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Ms. Lane, Mr. Kent!”

She is about three feet away from the two reporters when the sound of machine gun fire sets people to screaming. “Hands up in the air, now!”


	29. Hostage Doesn’t Have to Mean Helpless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a gala—well, okay, a party. In Gotham. Hosted by Bruce Wayne. Of course there is a break-in and a hostage situation. No time like the present to start a tradition.

In the next moment, she and the two reporters are out on the balcony, left in the cold with an almost phantom sensation of strong arms around her. “Huh. Well, that wasn’t subtle at all,” she mutters. _Super speed is right_ , she thinks, turning to look back at the room they’ve just left, or as much as she can see of it through the windows and crowd inside.

“What? I’m sorry, what?” Lane looks flustered.

“I’m sorry about that, Ms. Lane,” a deep voice says from behind them. “I was passing through and heard the gunshots.”

“Superman! Ohmigod, Clark, Clark Kent, he’s a reporter too. He was standing right next to me! He’s still in there!”

Veronica snorts, and revises her assessment of Lane’s intelligence, given that the woman owns the byline on half _The Daily Planet_ ’s Superman articles _and_ works with Kent on a day-to-day basis. _No, he isn’t_.

“So are a lot of people,” she says impatiently. Turning to Superman, she asks, “Do you really have x-ray vision? Can you see how many assailants there are? What are they saying and doing?”

“Six gunmen, three with machine guns and three with pistols. Those three are holding hostages with guns pressed to their temples. Ski masks, but I can see who they are. All of them are white, between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five. They’re asking people to turn over their jewelry, watches, wallets. One of the guys with machine guns is collecting, while the other five are on the stage facing the crowd.”

“Okay, we have some time to strategize, then. You have super speed, right? Can you make it in and disarm them before any of the hostage-takers can fire?”

He shakes his head. “Not with those guns pressed to their temples like that, not all of them, especially with the machine guns. I could save one, maybe two, before they could open fire on the crowd.”

She sighs. “Any kind of stealth mode or powers? Although given what you’re wearing, I’ll assume not.”

“No, Ms. Mars.”

“Where’s Bruce?”

He looks apologetic. “He’s, ah, one of the hostages.”

Excellent. “Do you recognize any of the other hostages?”

“Tony Stark. A woman with heavy zombie makeup in a school uniform.”

Even better. “Gray cardigan, black tie, red plaid skirt, knee socks, nowhere near as scared as she should be? I’m assuming you can read heart rates.” Best be sure.

“Yes. How did you—”

“I’m going in. On my word and not a second before, save the Stark, then take out the automatics. The word is ‘blue,’ for your uniform. Got it?”

Lois Lane is goggling at her. “Who _are_ you?”

Superman has his arms crossed and is staring at her. “What do you have planned?”

Veronica sighs, edges back toward the doors. “I’m Veronica Mars, Ms. Lane. You asked me about the Wayne Bounty at the press conference on Monday, and you interviewed me for a couple of articles with your friend Mr. Kent the other day.”

To Superman, she says flatly, “People have told me my super powers are being sneaky and annoying people into doing what I want them to. I will distract them with my wit and sparkling personality and signal to Bruce that you will take care of Stark if he does what he has been trained to do to get out of exactly this kind of situation. His bodyguard will react appropriately.”

He frowns, looking as disapproving as a schoolmarm. “Ms. Mars, I can’t let you do that.”

“You’re not letting me. I’m doing it. It’s your best option with the minimum chance of incurring casualties. I’m trusting you to not fuck this up.”

He floats over to her. “Ms. Mars—”

She’s already at the door, but she needs him to shut up and step back. So quietly, almost subvocally so Lane won’t hear, she murmurs. “I can do this, Kent. But I need you to not be visible right now.”

She feels him freeze at her back, and then the slightest breeze in the chill air, which tells her he’s backed off as she asked. “On my word,” she repeats, louder this time so Lane can hear. Then she quietly opens the door and slips inside, takes in the situation.

Five of the gunmen are on the elevated dance floor. Three are holding pistols to their hostages’ heads—Bruce on one side, Shiva in the middle, and Tony Stark at the end. That should make it easier for Superman to get the Malibu billionaire clear of danger.

Two thugs wielding machine guns have their weapons trained on the crowd while a third gunman is walking around with a sack for people to put their valuables into, machine gun strapped to his back.

Slowly enough that the robbers don’t notice but quickly enough because she can tell from their fidgeting they’re getting angsty, she makes her way to a spot where Bruce and Shiva can see her clearly. As soon as she moves into position, their eyes flick her way and stop there.

_Superman outside_ , she signals quickly. _Can take out Stark’s guy plus automatics. Cover story: Bruce trained for anti-kidnapping, Shiva security. Will distract. Wait on word to act._

_Acknowledged. Standing by._ She smiles a little at how quickly they respond, not that she expected anything else. Then she gets serious and trains her eyes on the roving gunman. She watches him a couple of minutes, notices he’s rough with the men and rude and groping with the women but quick to move on once he gets what he wants. She puts herself subtly in his path.

“What about you, girly? Ya got anything for me?” Beady eyes leer at her.

“Do I _look_ like I’m carrying anything valuable?” She crosses her arms in front of her.

“I dunno, you could be hiding stuff. D’ya want me to check?” He angles in closer, steps right into her space.

“Touch me and you’ll have my knee in your ball and my fist in your throat so fast you’ll be crying before you hit the ground.”

“Big words for such a little girl. Let me show you what a man can do with a tiny little thing like you.”

As he reaches for her, she meets Bruce’s eyes and nods subtly, then murmurs, “Blue, now,” in that quiet voice no one but the alien on the balcony can hear. And she acts.

Because she promised, she knees the guy in the balls and punches him in the throat. A machine gun goes off, but she barely registers that a few rounds have fired before it stops with a yelp from one of the gunmen.

Focused on doing her part, she doesn’t spare the time to look, pulling the machine gun off her guy’s shoulder. She slings it around her own body as he goes down clutching his balls and neck, then bends down to check for other weapons.

“Veronica!”

She has her knee on the guy’s back and she looks up to see three men bearing down on her—Logan, her dad, and Bruce, in that order. Though she suspects Bruce started heading her way to maintain cover.

“Jesus, Veronica, why the hell did you provoke the guy like that?”

“—Nearly gave me a heart attack, sweetheart. What were you thinking?”

“You good, Nica?”

Although she knows Logan and Keith’s words are rooted in concern, she appreciates Bruce’s lack of drama. “Yeah, Brue, I’m good. You?”

“Fine. Easy takedown, did it just like you told me. Wanna get a drink?” He grins. “Can’t believe Superman came to my party.”

“Um, sure Bruce, we’ll get a drink, just as soon as I—”

She gestures toward the guy on the floor, decides it’s safe to stand up. Her dad immediately hauls him into a position that leaves no one in doubt he’s a cop, even if he hasn’t got any restraints on him.

“I’ll take him from here, Ms. Mars, and drop the lot of them at—”

“GCPD, nobody move!”

She smirks. “I take it Ms. Lane called the cops?”

“She did,” Superman confirms, hauling up the guy she took down. “I’d better go talk to them.”

“Here, take this,” she says, and hands him the machine gun.

“Thanks. I, uh, would like to speak with you later.”

“Sure,” she says easily, knowing he’ll want to talk about the way she used his civilian name earlier and already coming up with how she’ll answer any questions he might have. She rattles off her phone number. “Call me.”

He nods, twists the machine gun into an honest-to-god knot with a scream of metal, and picks up the would-be robber, who is moaning pathetically.

Keith and Logan are looking at her oddly as the Man of Steel floats over to the policemen streaming in, thug and crumpled firearm in hand. Meanwhile, Bruce, despite his vapid Brucie smile, is quietly assessing. She knows he’s thinking up a million scenarios to work this even to his advantage.

“Honey,” Keith says finally, hesitantly, “did Superman just hit on you, and did you just give him your number?”

“Is that what it looked like?” Veronica murmurs.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Logan says.

Bruce starts to snicker. “Way to go, Nica!” he says. “Come on, let’s check on Tony. Do you remember the name of that bodyguard lady? The schoolgirl zombie one? We should give her a raise.”

He takes her hand, drags her to the dance floor with Logan and Keith following like puppies in their wake. Superman and Stark are talking to the cops.

“Tony! You okay? I saw Superman rescued you so I went to check on Nica here.”

“Yeah, Bruce, I’m good. That’s some damn fine ass kicking you did back there.”

“Eh,” Bruce says, and waves a hand dismissively. “I’ve been doing martial arts since I was nine. Karate and stuff. Alfred’s idea, after my parents—you know.”

Anyone who knows anything about Gotham knows about the deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne. So Tony just nods.

“Where’s that security chick? She should totally get a raise! I don’t even know her name.”

“I’m here, Mr. Wayne. I apologize I wasn’t able to keep you from being taken hostage.” Veronica is surprised at Shiva’s flat American accent.

Bruce shrugs. “It happens. And you got taken too. So come see me about a raise or bonus or something tomorrow, okay? What’s your name again?”

“Sheila Soo, sir.”

“Good, good. Nica, can you remind me to tell Lucius? Or Alfred?”

“Tell me what, Mr. Wayne?” Lucius asks as he approaches them.

“This is Sheila. She had a hard day today but still kicked butt. She needs a raise.”

“I’ll see to it, Mr. Wayne.”

Superman sticks around long enough to give his report to the cops, then leaves the way he came—through the balcony doors. Veronica can’t hear what he’s told them, but she imagines he said something about her part in the takedown because they start casting strange looks her way.

Then, as the other officers go through the process of interviewing and releasing the guests, two plain-clothed policemen head over to where she and Bruce, her family, and Tony Stark are sitting on the couch. She’s pleasantly surprised to realize she recognizes one of them.

“Detective James Gordon,” she says warmly. “It’s good to see you.”

“Ah, it’s sergeant now, Veronica,” the redheaded policeman says, his moustache twitching as he smiles. “And it’s even better to see you, although not under these circumstances.”

“You’ve met my dad, I know,” she says, gesturing toward Keith, who still looks annoyed with her. “Dad, Jim’s with the GCPD, and he’s a fan of yours. We spit-balled on some cases a couple years back.”

“I remember,” Keith says, reaching a hand out for Gordon to shake. “You also called me to offer condolences after Veronica’s… disappearance.”

Gordon’s cheeks redden a bit. “Ah, yeah, I did. And we met on your book tour several years ago as well.”

“I know you.” Everyone looks at Bruce, who is staring at the policeman as if he’s trying to work something out. “You’re the one who found out who murdered my parents.”

“Yes.” A pause, a sigh. “Yes, I was, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce nods. “Why are you here?”

“We’re here to take your statements about tonight’s incident,” Gordon’s partner replies.

“Then we can go home?”

“Yeah, you can go home once we’ve taken your statement, though we might have some followup questions in the morning, especially for you, Ms. Mars, Mr. Stark, and… was it Ms. Soo?”

“Okay,” Bruce says, nodding. “Let’s do that then.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Jim saves Veronica for last, so she gets to hear everyone else’s statements. She hears her dad’s and Logan’s anger when they recount how she baited the robber. Her dad still sounds angry when he describes the subsequent takedown, but Logan looks thoughtful.

Stark’s statement is pretty straightforward. He was drinking, someone grabbed him, there was a gun to his head, he heard Veronica threatening the perp on collection duty, then he was free because Superman had knocked out the man behind him and melted the pistol that had been pointed at his head.

“When we come hang out in Malibu, Brucie, I’m going to show you a good time that does _not_ involve hostage situations,” he says. “Veronica, you come too, okay? And bring your friend Mac here.”

“Course Nica’s coming,” Brucie says. “She keeps me safe, like tonight.”

“You kept yourself safe, Brue,” Veronica says fondly. “Good job.”

“Speaking of which, Mr. Wayne, if we could have your account of tonight’s events so we can corroborate everyone’s stories?”

“Sure,” Brucie says smiling. “Should I start when we got here or when those guys started shooting or what?”

The policeman who is _not_ Gordon makes the mistake of telling him to start when they arrived at the hotel. Bruce treats them all to a mind-numbing blow-by-blow that would be impressive if he didn’t consistently either fail to interpret the behavioral cues of everyone he interacted with or succeed in explaining them in the worst possible way. Three minutes in, Veronica’s just a little in awe of his ability to dissemble.

“So then Nica tells Donkey, ‘I wanna see your kid when I go home.’ Nica _loves_ his kid. Him, not so much, ‘cause he’s a dick and he’s got the personality of blank paper. Then Donkey says, ‘Yeah, my kid would like to see you and I would also like to make more kids with you.’”

“WHAT!” Keith, Logan, and Wallace are simultaneously outraged.

Bruce nods. “I know, right? Don’t worry, though. I told him and his dad to go away and not come back. There was a guy with them who looked more like Blade than Logan here does, and he dragged Donkey away, so they must’ve followed my advice. Anyway, after that I saw Tony and was like, hey, we went to MIT together sometime—”

“Twelve years ago,” Tony murmurs.

“Yeah, twelve years ago. Was one of my first colleges. I shopped around. Anyway, so I promised Nica I’d introduce her around so she could get laid—”

“Bruce, I told you I wasn’t interested,” Veronica says exasperatedly.

“But I was reading on my phone the other day that people deal with stress better if they have sex at least twice a week,” Bruce says guilelessly.

“Brue, I’ve already told you, you really can’t take what you read on the internet for gospel,” Veronica says, burying her face in her hands.

“I know that. They had statistics, Nica. And said it was from some medical journal or something. I remembered what you said, and I checked. So it’s totally legit.”

“Good job, Bruce,” Mac says, clearly amused.

“And I didn’t just throw you in based on the article. I tried it out first, tested the hypothesis and all that. I slept with that reporter who came to interview me, and I really did feel much better after. Then this morning, we were in New York on that talk show, and I remembered I had to do it twice for it to really work, and hey it did, so I thought, if you’re going home to California, I should find you someone from California, and I remembered Tony was from California—”

Stark leans in and mutters to Veronica, “That explains why he kept bringing up our home state.”

“How is this my life right now?” Veronica wonders.

“Mr. Wayne, if we could get back to your story?” Gordon. Thank god.

“What? Oh. Okay. Um. Where was I?”

“You saw Mr. Stark and decided to introduce him to Ms. Mars,” Gordon’s partner pipes in helpfully.

“Right. So Tony was like, ‘Hey, I got kidnapped by terrorists too, you’re such a copycat.’”

All eyes except Bruce’s and Veronica’s turn to Tony, who looks a little sheepish. “It was a joke?”

“Ah, Mr. Wayne, maybe we should just fast forward to the moment when you realized something was wrong.”

“Are you sure? You don’t need the details?”

“Only the ones pertinent to the crime, Mr. Wayne.”

“Oh, sure. That makes sense. Um, I was talking to a couple of girls and one of them started screaming.”

“Hold up.” Gordon checks his notes. “Mr. Wayne, from all accounts, you were positioned close to where the gunmen opened fire at the ceiling. Yet you didn’t notice anything until someone started screaming?”

“No?” Bruce says hopefully.

“Ah, detective?” Wallace asks. “I can tell you why.”

Gordon adjust his glasses, looks at Wallace. “Please do. Mr. Fennel, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Um, Brucie here was with two supermodel-types. He was in a pretty heavy lip lock with one of them when those men started firing, and that’s when the other one started screaming.”

“Like a stuck pig,” Brucie confirms. “Remember when they killed that pig outside our window when we were in terrorist jail, Nica? She sounded _exactly_ like that. It was really unattractive.”

“All right. Mr. Wayne, if you could continue? The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can go home.”

“Cool. Alfred’s probably worried. Or pissed. Anyway, that girl was screaming, so I looked up, and one of the guys goes, ‘You’re coming with me, birthday boy’ or something like that, and he drags me up to the dance floor and puts a gun to my head. I mean, how rude is that? It’s my fucking birthday. Or it was. I guess it’s past midnight now.” Brucie pouts.

“What happened next, Mr. Wayne?” Gordon sounds very tired.

“Well, you know I’ve been taking self-defense classes for years. Even before we met, Tony. So I knew what to do if I had a gun to my head. But then I noticed they had Tony and Sheila here, who is my secret bodyguard or something. Nica knows the details.”

“I can provide those details, or Sheila can,” Veronica confirms.

Bruce nods. “Alfred took care of it, I think. But back to my story, right? So I was standing there and thinking, ‘Okay, Nica always says, think three moves ahead. If I handle this guy, will the others shoot Tony and the schoolgirl zombie chick?’ I thought maybe the answer was yes, so I just waited for Nica to tell me what to do.”

“That was probably the best thing you could do in that situation, Mr. Wayne,” Gordon says, casting one of those odd looks of his at Veronica. He’s not the only one. “Then what?”

“Then Veronica came up by the front and said Superman was here and that he’d take care of Tony and Sheila would take care of herself, but she’d mess with the robbers to distract people and I should wait ‘til she told me to make my move.” Brucie delivers all of this fairly quickly, and with such casualness one might be forgiven for thinking he’d just rattled off what he’d had for breakfast this morning.

“She told you all of this?” Gordon frowns. His partner looks bewildered. Stark looks from Bruce to Veronica to Bruce again, and Veronica doesn’t like the speculative look in his eyes. And though she knows he’s a genius in scientific and engineering fields, her assessment of his interpersonal awareness skills goes up a notch.

“Uh huh. Told Sheila too.” He grimaces. “Nica, I can’t believe you taught her!”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “It was necessary. As you can see from what happened tonight.”

“Sorry, but if someone could explain how it is that Ms. Mars conveyed all this information when no one reports hearing anything—”

“Well of course no one heard anything,” Brucie says, condescension in every word. “She did it in the usual way.”

“Ah, hand signals, Jim,” Veronica says hastily. “We had a… system. When we were locked up. I taught the basics to Sheila here a couple days ago. Wasn’t sure how much she’d caught on, but I figured I might as well try, and she was professional enough to follow Bruce’s lead even if she didn’t understand anything.”

“Hand signals,” the redheaded cop repeats.

Veronica nods. “Um, if you could keep that out of people’s general knowledge, that would be great. Alfred and I discussed it, and we thought it would be helpful for Bruce’s security moving forward.”

Gordon nods. “Of course.” He turns back to Bruce. “Mr. Wayne, if you could run us through the last of your story?”

“Sure,” Brucie says sunnily. “I just did what Veronica said to. Disarmed the guy who was holding me. I learned that move when I was ten, you know. Sheila here dealt with her guy too, then Superman knocked out the rest of them. Oh, except for the guy Nica messed up. I went to check on her, but she was fine. Kicked him in the balls.”

He sounds positively gleeful at that last point, so Veronica smiles at him. “Kneed him, actually.”

“Still a good move,” he says approvingly. He turns to Tony. “Can Sheila come to your place too?”

Shiva stiffens. “Mr. Wayne, I don’t think—”

“Yeah, sure, why not? I told Veronica here we should start a hostage survivors club, and we can induct Sheila here as an auxiliary member, no problem.” Stark grins. “Maybe you guys will teach me some of your hand signals. Sounds pretty useful. Bet Happy would appreciate me knowing something like that.”

“What club?” Brucie asks, curious. “Also, it’s not that kind of hand signals, Tony. They won’t make you ‘happy.’”

“He’s also not that kind of ‘happy,’ Brucie,” Tony replies, grinning.

“Oh, then what kind are you talking about?” Brucie asks, leering.

Stark and Veronica are saved from having to answer when “Sheila Soo” is asked to recount her own experience of the evening’s events. Hers is just as straightforward as Stark’s. She was hired to stick close to Mr. Wayne by the Wayne family butler, a fact known only by Mr. Wayne and Ms. Mars.

She hadn’t been able to read everything Ms. Mars communicated to Mr. Wayne, but she got enough to know that help was available, Ms. Mars would create a distraction, and Mr. Wayne and Sheila were to disarm their captors.

“I imagine the cameras around the dance area would have recorded this,” Shiva adds calmly.

Oh, that explains things. Veronica had completely forgotten about the cameras she’d noticed upon entering, and she has been wondering why Bruce had mentioned their means of communication.

Then Gordon is turning to her. “Veronica? Last one. Care to give your statement?”

She tells him how she was approaching Kent and Lane from the _Daily Planet_ when she heard the gunshots, but wasn’t able to pinpoint the direction the shots came from. The next thing she knew, she was out on the balcony with Lane, and Superman was telling her he wasn’t sure he could take out all the gunmen before the hostages might be shot.

She’d gotten him to tell her who the hostages were and the gunmen’s positions, then, knowing Bruce and Sheila would follow her lead, gone back inside to create a distraction, and told Superman to come in right before she’d kneed the robber in the balls.

“I took some self-defense classes from Ted Grant in New York while I was investigating Bruce’s disappearance,” she says. “And a friend and I buddied up to take basic krav maga classes too. Then Bruce showed me some things when we were in…wherever we were. They leave you alone with your bunkmate for a seriously stupid amount of time.”

Stark raises his hand. “I can attest to that. When I was in Afghanistan, I spent a lot of time talking physics, history, philosophy, and whatever with the guy they locked me up with. In between torture sessions, you know.”

Everyone looks a little uncomfortable. Veronica gives Stark a narrow look. He shrugs and smiles sheepishly, and she rolls her eyes.

Gordon releases them, though mentions he or his partner might come to see them the following day if they have additional questions. Bruce offers Stark a place to stay for the night, but the Californian billionaire declines, saying his jet is primed and waiting for him at Gotham International.

Before leaving, Stark reminds Bruce to give him a call when he’s in LA and passes Veronica a card with his private number on it.

“We Californians have to stick together, isn’t that what Brucie says?” he jokes. Veronica sticks out her tongue at him, but pockets the card. “Seriously, though. I want to introduce you to my assistant, Pepper. She handles me almost as well as you handle Bruce. I think you guys would get along.”

Shiva leaves as well, promising to report for work and debriefing the following morning. So there’s nothing to do but brave the gauntlet of reporters camped in the lobby and outside the hotel and pile into the limo to return to Wayne Manor.

Her family, with the exception of Mac, doesn’t wait until they’re home to lecture her on the dangers of her actions that evening. Instead, they start haranguing her in the limo. Predictably, Keith and Logan yell the loudest.

Finally, Bruce growls, “Nica did good. She saved a lot of lives that might’ve been hurt if Superman got there and wasn’t able to get all of the gunmen in time. You leave her alone.”

When they arrive at the Manor, Bruce allows everyone to hug Veronica good night, but doesn’t let anyone but Mac accompany them back to the family wing.

Bruce follows the women into Veronica’s room and shuts the door behind him. Then he takes out a device that looks a lot like a signal jammer, deploys it, and barks out, “Report.”


	30. Post-Mortem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce wants to know what Veronica thinks about Clark Kent and Tony Stark.

Veronica sighs, grabs a couple of the large bottles of makeup remover and tubs of cold cream the makeup artist had left on her dresser, a box of tissues, and a bag of cotton balls, and dumps them on the coffee table in front of the couch before herself down. She pats the seat beside her for Bruce to sit down. He does.

“Feel free,” she tells Mac, waving at the products as she gets to work removing makeup from Bruce’s face.

Mac starts peeling the prosthetic makeup from her forehead. Veronica watches. “That’s kind of gross,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“But it was a damn good costume,” Mac says smiling. “Thanks for hiring those makeup artists, Bruce.”

“No problem.” He looks at Veronica. “Report.”

“I don’t think your jammer will block super hearing,” she tells him primly.

He grunts. “Subsonic transmitter.”

“Eh?”

“Similar to an electronic dog whistle. If he’s trying to listen in, it’ll give him a headache.”

“Won’t that catch his attention, though?”

“Only if he was already trying to eavesdrop. Several rooms in the family wing are soundproofed, including yours.”

“So you were paranoid even before you disappeared. Good to know.”

“I merely had Alfred update the manor while I was… what did you call it? University hopping. You have been appreciative enough of the improvements to the showers.”

“True that.” Veronica turns to Mac. “You _have_ to try the shower in my bathroom tonight.”

“I’m pretty happy with the rain shower in my own bathroom,” Mac muses.

“Nooo, Mac. You gotta try the one in mine, okay? There are _body jets_. Like twenty of them. It’s better than sex.”

Bruce frowns. “Perhaps you just not have had the right partner.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Okay, better than sex with Duncan, but not better than sex with Logan,” she announces.

“Bond! TMI! That’s my business partner you’re talking about!”

“Oh, you still have that website you guys did for his econ class in freshman year? The one where people upload booty pics?”

“GradeMyAss.Net, yeah,” Mac says cheerfully. “It’s why I’ll be graduating college not only debt-free, but with a tidy little rainy day fund. We’ve expanded on the platform and now have GradeMyPuppy.Net, GradeMyKitty.Net, and GradeMyOOTD.Net. Best thing about it? Unless we’re launching a new concept, the site pretty much runs itself since we outsource the content curation and moderation.”

“That’s impressive,” Bruce observes. “However, irrelevant. Veronica. Report.”

“Ugh, you do know that we’re going into this as partners, right? You can’t just boss me around like that. I mean, sure, I’ll defer to you on stuff like martial arts and other stealthy ninja matters, but I’m also the professional investigator between the two of us.”

“Noted. However, I am not looking for a report on the actions you took tonight to resolve the hostage situation. I expect we both covered this well enough in our statements to the GCPD and can check for details in our after-action reports, which we should both upload by tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Veronica says. “Okay, what do you need me to report on then?”

“Kent. Stark. Your assessments? Your interactions with them were more significant than mine.”

“Hm. Which should I tackle first?”

“Stark.”

“Well, I liked the guy,” Veronica says. “He probably drinks too much, but he’s got an intensity I don’t remember seeing in him when I’d see news clips of him before.”

“He caused an uproar when he came back and announced Stark Industries was pulling out of the weapons manufacturing business,” Mac says. “His stock dropped like forty points overnight, and it keeps falling. They think it’ll go down 60 points if he doesn’t announce a new project and business plan in the next couple of months.”

“Sixty-five,” Bruce says mildly. “I hope to wrap things up for him before then. Also, the Stark Industries board of directors, led by Stane, is moving to file an injunction against him based on an assessment of PTSD.”

Veronica frowns. “Is there a risk Earle and his cronies will try to do that to you?”

Bruce shakes his head. “Stark doesn’t plan ahead very well. I’ll be taking back majority interest, but won’t be a vocal member of the board of directors. If possible, I’ll opt for a director emeritus position. Lucius will stay on as CEO and chairman of the board of Wayne Enterprises, and I’ll ostensibly differ any major decisions to him. He’s a known entity, he’s loyal, and he’s familiar with my agendas for the company and the city, even if he isn’t privy to the aspect of my mission that involves the Bat.”

“So the public will think that, for all intents and purposes, Fox runs the company and you’re just the name on the wall. Very Brucie,” Mac says, grinning.

Bruce points a finger at Veronica, an effect ruined by the fact that she’s gone back to wiping at his face with a cotton ball drenched in makeup remover. “Stark. Assessment.”

“Anyway, he was kind of sad when he watched you, wanted to know what happened to you. Though he confessed to hacking the Pentagon so he could read the reports the operatives filed and watch the video of our debriefing.”

“Hm.”

“He hacked the Pentagon?”

“Yep. And confessed it to me like it was no biggie, like he’d told me he’d picked up a tabloid while doing the groceries or something.” She pauses, then pulls out her WEPhone. “Actually, you know what? It might be helpful to review the video.”

Mac frowns. “Video?”

“Yeah, I stuck a teeny weeny spy cam on my little hat,” Veronica says, reaching up to tap the hair ornament. “Alfred found it for me. Or rather, Lucius did, but he doesn’t know Alfred asked for it on my behalf.”

Bruce frowns. “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

She looks sheepish. “I really only wanted it as a failsafe in case Jake Kane wanted to mess with us.”

“Good thinking. We should bring cameras to all social events.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Of course you’d like that.” She fiddles with the phone, then eyes the remote control for the TV in her room. “Can I get the video onto the TV?”

“Yeah, Bond, give it here.” Mac holds out her hand for it, wiggles her fingers. Veronica hands over the phone, and Mac starts working her magic.

“I think he could be a good friend to you,” Veronica tells Bruce. “And a good ally for us. He seems genuinely concerned for you, and I think he’s a little lonely. Like nobody understands what he’s gone through. I think that’s why he keeps mentioning the whole ‘terrorist hostage survivors club’ thing. If we find Oliver Queen, you could even make a ‘lost billionaires’ club.”

Mac hands Veronica’s phone back to her. “Here, you can control it on the phone. Just fast forward or rewind to the parts you want us to see.”

“Cool,” Veronica says. The video queues up from the point she turned the camera on, which is as they enter the party. She starts forwarding through the video.

“You’re forgetting something,” Bruce says, watching the screen as the images fly past. “We’re not actually ‘terrorist hostage survivors.’”

“Well, technically we are,” Veronica says. “I mean, we might’ve been plants in that terrorist compound, but except for the Shadow agent, the terrorists there didn’t know that. Also, technically, Ra’s is a terrorist, and he did hold me captive for nearly two years. Even if he was nicer about it than might’ve been expected.”

Bruce grunts. Veronica figures he’ll need more convincing, so she leaves it alone for now and instead plays the video. The three of them watch in silence.

“How old were you when you were at MIT?” Mac asks. “Didn’t Tony graduate when he was seventeen?”

“Tony, huh? Guess he likes you,” Veronica teases.

Mac blushes. “He just likes to talk geek, I think, and doesn’t have very many friends to do it with. He, ah, invited me to come with you when you and Bruce meet JARVIS.”

“Yeah, what was up with that?” Veronica asks.

“It’s his artificial intelligence system,” Bruce says. “Originally intended to be a natural-language user interface computer system, but he’s repurposed it and it now runs his home security, among other things. And I was fourteen when I spent a semester at MIT.”

“Have you been hacking the billionaire hacker, Bruce?” Veronica teases.

“Yes.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Does he know?”

“No.” Bruce looks a little offended at that.

Veronica snickers. “That’s gonna piss him off so much.”

“You’re assuming I am sloppy enough to leave behind evidence of my actions.” Veronica holds her hands up in surrender. Bruce frowns, turns back to the screen. “He was looking a little strange when I was giving my statement to Gordon. He might suspect something.”

Veronica nods. “He’s sharper on an interpersonal than people give him credit for, I think. It’s easy to fall for that entitled asshole persona of his. I’d say his don’t-give-a-fuck attitude is only half-real. He was scrutinizing both of us like we were bugs he wanted to dissect. And he said something as he was leaving.” She frowns, looks for that scene on her phone. “Here.”

_I want to introduce you to my assistant, Pepper. She handles me almost as well as you handle Bruce._

Bruce frowns. “This is the image we had decided to project.”

“You mean my status as Brucie-whisperer, as CJ calls me?” Veronica laughs. “Yes, but it’s the fact that he wants me to meet his assistant. I’ve read your files. He’s very attached to her and both possessive and protective of her—as Brucie is reputed to be of me. I’ve also read your assessment of her abilities and personality. You think he should make her his CEO, like how Lucius is for you.”

“There are impediments,” Bruce says. “Her qualifications, her age, the fact that Stark’s board of directors is currently made up entirely of men on the wrong side of middle age with markedly old-fashioned opinions. But these are not insurmountable, with some finesse on Stark’s part.”

He stares at Veronica for a moment. “What?” she finally asks, irritated.

“I’m giving you 50 million dollars.”

“So you’ve said,” Veronica grumbles.

“I’m going to use it to buy up Stark Industries shares in your name. I am also going to buy shares for myself and defer any stockholder decisions to you. This should give you enough of a stake that you can be nominated as a director.”

Veronica frowns. “Why would you do that?”

“They need a woman on the board. You didn’t back down against Ra’s. You won’t back down against Stane.”

“I’m not sure Tony will appreciate your meddling.”

He gives her a Brucie grin. “I just wanted to apologize for how you got caught in the drama of everything that happened with my birthday party, Tony,” he says airily. “Then Lucius told me how your stock dropped, so I thought, why not buy stuff up and gift it to my Nica here since she won’t take my cash? After all, Californian solidarity and everything.”

Veronica rolls her eyes, but Brucie isn’t done. “I’m sure you’ll turn things around if people would just stop panicking and give you some time to plan properly, Tones. Nica always says taking the time to make a good plan is better than trying to fix things that explode in your face. My plan is to give her these stocks, and when you fix things, she’ll be richer than ever.”

Veronica and Mac are staring. “It’s really disturbing how well you do that,” Mac says finally. “I mean, everything you said is really smart, but it sounds really dumb. Like some kind of _Legally Blonde_ magic.”

Brucie grins. “I am a certified genius!” he announces.

Veronica nods solemnly. “He says it like it’s ridiculous, but it’s actually true,” she tells Mac. “That’s the beauty of it. It’s kind of like, if a really, really smart person got really, really high, you’d get Brucie Wayne.”

Bruce tilts his head toward the TV screen. “Show me your interactions with Kent,” he says.

“I still can’t believe he’s Superman.” Mac shakes her head. They had briefed her on what they’d gathered about Superman’s secret identity, but she was still a little bit overwhelmed by Bruce and Veronica’s dynamics, by the speed at which their brains worked and the scope and complexity of all the balls they had up in the air at any given time.

Veronica finds the point in the video where she’s approaching Kent and Lane, plays it at full speed. “I actually want to slow this down, but the camera isn’t that good and I don’t know what we’ll get from it.”

“I can play with it tomorrow, Bond,” Mac says.

Veronica grins. “Heck yeah! I love not being tech-and-tac support!”

“Told you so,” the brunette says smugly.

As the video plays, Veronica takes the time to finish removing her makeup. She hands her phone to Bruce so he can move backward or forward as he likes, scrutinizing the actions and behavior of the Man of Steel.

“Lane is an idiot,” he says after hearing her worry aloud about Kent.

Veronica laughs. “Yeah, I had to revise my mental file of her to lower my estimation of her practical intelligence and powers of observation. Which is sad, considering her profession and the fact that the woman has won a Pulitzer.”

Bruce snorts, and even Mac agrees.

After they’ve reviewed Veronica’s video, Bruce borrows her laptop to hack into the hotel’s security cameras so they can watch the incident through different angles.

“So you’ve verified super speed and x-ray vision,” Bruce says when they’re done. “He exhibited his invulnerability to bullets and laser vision during the takedown.”

“What did you think about his work?” Veronica asks.

“Sloppy,” Bruce says promptly. “His flight is a unique tactical advantage, and yet he exhibits no finesse or training, relying on speed and sheer power to see him through. He could easily have dealt with all six gunmen without the need for your involvement had he had more tactical training, especially with aerial and stealth maneuvers. Warn him when he comes to whine at you tomorrow. To enter into the business of saving civilian lives and not be sufficiently trained is negligent.”

“You’re so sure he’ll come to see me tomorrow?”

“Yes, earlier rather than later. He looked very worried when he told you he wanted to talk.”

“And I take it I’m to keep your knowledge of his identity a secret?”

“Yes. Lie well. Remember your heartbeat. It may be enough to fool him, assuming his visual acuity does not extend to reading brainwaves.”

“All right. Anything else I need to know and pass on?”

“He has no tactical training or experience. He would have identified the machine guns three of the men were carrying as Kalashnikovs if he had. That was information you needed to know, even if you were just going to report it to the police. If he’d mentioned it to Lane and she passed it along, the GCPD would have sent SWAT rather than their regular forces.”

“What are those?” Mac says, frowning. “It sounds Russian.”

“They’re AK-47s,” Veronica says. “Probably one of the most common assault rifles, especially for terrorists and criminals.”

“So basically you’re asking Veronica to give the most powerful man on the planet a dressing down for incompetence?” Mac asks Bruce.

“It is necessary, given the role he has assumed in Metropolis and elsewhere in the world.”

“What, you’re just assuming he’ll be nice to her because she’s cute and blonde or something? What if it pisses him off?”

“It is unlikely, given what we know of his psychological makeup. However, we need only for Veronica to make it clear she knows how to contact him. Once the Bat begins operations and establishes himself in Gotham, it should be a simple matter to offer basic training should he so desire it. We may wish to share the idea that Brucie is funding the Bat with him to facilitate communications. Veronica is… better than I am with interpersonal encounters.”

“Uh uh,” Veronica says. “I don’t mind associating or even working with the alien farm boy, mostly because I agree with your assessment of his skills. Even _I_ would know better things to do with a power like flight than what he was using. But if you want to make friends, I’m not going to be your go-between.”

“Hnn.”

“Man up, Bat boy.”

Bruce glares.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Later, after Bruce and Mac have left, Veronica takes a hot shower before climbing into bed. Before she falls asleep, she texts Logan, Wallace, and her dad. _I’m sorry I worried you tonight_.

It’s past three in the morning, so she doesn’t expect either of them to answer. But her phone pings back with a reply almost immediately. _I’m sorry I yelled at you in the limo_. Logan. Another ping. _You totally kicked that guy’s ass. I almost felt bad for him_.

She smiles. Hesitates for a moment, then shrugs and dials.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is tired, but he sounds happy to be talking to her.

“Hey.” She giggles a little. “I really did kick that guy’s ass, didn’t I?”

“You bet.” She can hear the grin in his voice when he adds, “I’m glad you didn’t know those moves back in high school.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t have used them on you,” she says. “Now, Duncan and Troy, maybe. And Dick. Definitely Dick…”

He laughs. “I’d better warn him to stay on your good side then,” he says. “He’s still at Hearst, you know.”

“You mean he hasn’t flunked out?”

“His money’s still good. He’s Max’s number one customer.”

“Ah.”

“So Tony Stark seems like an interesting guy.”

“Uh huh. Seems nice. Worried about Bruce. I think more happened in Afghanistan than he’s saying.”

“I think more happened in Markovia, or wherever it is you were, than you’re saying.”

“Mmhmm. Probably. Not as bad as you imagine, though. Bruce mostly kept me safe.”

“See, it’s that ‘mostly’ that has me worried.”

“I couldn’t keep him safe all the time either.” Veronica yawns. “But he taught me to kick ass. He’s… a decent teacher when he’s focused on it. He was really good at martial arts before he disappeared.”

“You’re tired. I should let you sleep.”

“Mm. Talk to me until I do? Don’t want to think about stuff anymore.”

A pause. “But you know you can tell me if there’s stuff on your mind that’s keeping you awake, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Just, if you want to.”

“Yeah. But just wanna listen tonight.”

“Fine, but put me on speaker. I don’t want you dropping the phone on your face or anything. Or having you wake up with the impression on your phone on your cheek tomorrow.”

Veronica giggles. “Okay.” She does as he instructed. “Done.”

“All right. What do you want me to talk about.”

“Anything.” She pauses. “Actually, tell me about OCS. And flying. What you like about it.”

“OCS? Or flying?”

“Both. Either.”

“Well, OCS isn’t something I like so much as something I have to get through to do the stuff I want to do. So flying it is.”

“Mmkay.”

“Have you ever heard or a writer named Beryl Markham?”

“Nuh uh.”

“She was a contemporary of Ernest Hemingway’s. She was a British aviator who grew up in Kenya and became one of the first bush pilots alongside being a famous adventurer, racehorse trainer, and author. Amelia Earhart might’ve been the first woman to make the solo non-stop flight across the Atlantic Ocean from west to east, but Markham was the first to do it in the opposite direction. She wrote a memoir called _West with the Night_ that I read when I was in rehab.”

“You were always a big reader,” Veronica mumbles sleepily. “I never understood… why you always hid that. Even Lilly didn’t know how much you liked to read.”

“That was our secret, wasn’t it? Or one of them. Duncan might’ve known, but I guess he never cared to make a note of it. You were always braiding me bookmarks because I wouldn’t let you braid friendship bracelets.”

“Can’t believe you remember that,” she mumbles.

“Of course I do. Anyway, back to my story. I read this book, which was about how she grew up in Africa, the adventures she went on. The writing was just exquisite. People talk about words painting pictures, but hers really did. Hemingway famously thought her useless as a writer, only to read this book and tell someone later that it made him feel completely ashamed of himself because she pretty much wrote rings around all these white guys who thought they were all that. I could see why from the first page.”

“Mmm. She sounds like a badass.”

He laughs. “Yeah, she was. And she was beautiful. She reminded me of you.”

“Flatterer.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.”

“Hmph.”

“Anyway, I was just obsessed with this book. I must have read it four or five times while I was in rehab. Then, for Christmas, Dr. Galway took me up in his plane, and it was just this single engine light aircraft, a Piper Cherokee—okay, I won’t geek out on you—but I just fell in love with it. Like suddenly I knew what I was supposed to do with my life.”

Veronica doesn’t mention she knows what he’s talking about, and then some. “Mm. I know a little about airplanes, had to study them for a case at one point, but go ahead.”

“I…” He stops. “You have to understand, I thought you were dead. And somehow, up in the air like that, I felt closer to you. I know that’s just my imagination, especially now that you’re here and I’m talking to you, but...”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway, that author I was talking about, Markham. She wrote this thing about flying that kind of stuck with me, but I never really started to get it until I went up with Dr. Galway. Then I started doing flight school on weekends, got a feel for the plane I bought—did I mention I bought a plane?”

“No,” she mumbles. “But I should’ve guessed. You have almost as big a thing about buying stuff as Brucie does.”

He laughs. “Yeah. I guess, though I’ve been trying to do that a lot less these days, and I’ve actually been careful about investing my money. Plus, that business Mac and I set up in freshman year is doing pretty well.”

“She told me,” Veronica mumbles. “I’m totally bookmarking GradeMyPuppy.Net.”

“Thanks. Don’t forget to click on the ads.” He pauses. “Anyway, do you wanna hear the quote she wrote? Markham, I mean.”

“Mm.”

“‘We fly, but we have not “conquered” the air. Nature presides in all her dignity, permitting us the study and the use of such of her forces as we may understand. It is when we presume to intimacy, having been granted only tolerance, that the harsh stick fall across our impudent knuckles and we rub the pain, staring upward, startled by our ignorance.’

“When I go up, it’s like there’s nothing but me and the universe. It’s almost like getting a high, except instead of losing focus, you gain it. It’s awe-inspiring and humbling, and it’s the best feeling. Well, maybe the second best feeling, next to knowing you’re alive and in my life again.”

He pauses. “Veronica?”

She is right on the edge of sleep, but she murmurs, “Lo?”

“You know I love you, right? More than flying, more than breathing.”

“Mm. Love you too, Logan.”

She doesn’t hear whatever he says next. Maybe she doesn’t have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beryl Markham is a real historical figure, and her memoir, West with the Night, really did make Hemingway do the equivalent of pulling his hair out in literary envy. It’s an absolutely scrumptious read, and I’d recommend it in a heartbeat.
> 
> I’ve always thought that Logan’s quotes, the hints dropped in his dialogue, and his way with words have pointed to a character who’s an avid reader. And I know from other fanfics I’ve read that this is pretty much widely accepted. 
> 
> So when I saw the Veronica Mars movie and learned he was a pilot, I thought about the ways in which the profession might fit his personality (as a Hal Jordan fan, I can draw certain parallels). I thought a lot about how much joy Logan must get from flying, and it was a joy I first learned about when I picked up Beryl Markham’s book in high school. So really the Logan scene here is pure self-indulgence. But I’m sticking by it.


	31. The Alien Kal-El

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superman visits Wayne Manor and gets chewed out. Veronica takes pity on him.

Now that the rest of the household is aware that Bruce had been teaching Veronica martial arts during their imprisonment, he decides that they can be more open in their training, and that it would be beneficial to practice sparring at a level they would be comfortable being seen doing.

So they schedule a light training session for seven in the morning at the manor’s gym, which boasts a mixed martial arts cage from the days before Bruce’s disappearance. The gym is also equipped with a few different-sized punching bags and a variety of other equipment for boxing, strength training, gymnastics, and more.

Veronica’s grateful for the equipment and the late call time, but she’s still a little put out by the fact that, despite how much makeup remover she used and having had two showers with the water pressure on the jets cranked up, she’s still finding odd patches of glitter here and there. Bruce merely smirks before running her through a familiar set of drills.

Bruce is having Veronica run through a series of kicks and punches when he stiffens. Veronica raises her eyebrows at him, and he gestures for her to continue, though he flicks his gaze toward the window for the briefest moment before returning it to hers.

She keeps up the exercise, but takes the opportunity to scan the windows he indicated. She sees a figure hovering in the sky above the forested area of the manor grounds. Superman.

They keep things up for another ten minutes before Veronica calls for a break and Bruce obliges. Then the hero of Metropolis floats toward the window and knocks on it.

Both Veronica and Bruce turn and let their faces and heartbeats register their surprise. Then Brucie walks over to the windows and throws them wide open.

“Superman,” Brucie says, grinning. “Come in, come in! How’d you know where I live?”

The alien flies in a little hesitantly. “Possibly the whole of America knows where you live, Mr. Wayne. Gotham’s Wayne Manor is easily as famous as Tony Stark’s mansion in Malibu, although not quite as famous as the White House.”

“Technically, we’re in the Palisades,” Bruce says cheerfully. “And call me Brucie. I never got to thank you properly for helping out last night. Can I write you a check or something?”

“No, sir,” the man in blue replies. “I don’t accept any monetary compensation for what I do.”

“How ‘bout a car? I’ve got this beast of a Lamborghini—”

“No, Mr. Wayne, you misunderstand me. I don’t want anything in return for what I did last night. It was my duty and my honor to help innocent civilians out of a bad situation.”

“In the words of the famous Britney Spears, ‘I’m not that innocent.’ And I doubt Tony Stark is either.”

“In this instance, you certainly were. I was happy to help.”

“Well, you’re just a big blue bundle of kindness and joy, now aren’t you?” Brucie’s smile is beaming, then it turns blatantly appreciative. “And speaking of blue, I’m not a fan of the whole primary colors thing you have going on, but you really do fill out that costume, don’t you? Tell me, what is Kryptonian sex like? Do you have any extra—” Brucie waves in the direction of Superman’s crotch.

The alien blushes riotously. “Mr. Wayne! I don’t think that’s an appropriate subject for discussion.”

“Hmm. I’m guessing that’s a yes,” Brucie says, gaze speculative and still fixed on an area below Superman’s waist. “You know, the alien porn in Japan frequently features tentacles—”

Veronica slaps Bruce on the back of the head. “Shut up, Brue! Can’t you see you’re embarrassing the poor guy?”

Brucie looks surprised. “I don’t see what there is to be embarrassed about, Nica. I mean, if I had tentacles, you can bet I would—”

“Bruce,” Veronica says, a little loudly. “Could you tell Alfred we’ll have another guest for breakfast? Superman needs to ask me some stuff about what happened last night.”

“Oh. Sure, Nica. I’m pretty sure Alfred made enough for at least half a dozen extra guests at the table, but I’ll make sure he adds another setting to the table.” Bruce grabs a towel and his water bottle and heads out the door.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Kent,” Veronica tells Superman. “He doesn’t have much of a brain-to-mouth filter.”

The alien smiles faintly. “I can see that. You, ah, you’re very good with him.”

She tilts her head. “Can I trust that anything we say this morning will stay out of the papers?”

He startles. “Oh, yes, of course, Ms. Mars! I’m not a reporter when I’m wearing this uniform.”

“Good to know.” She exhales. “All right. The truth is, Brucie’s a really good guy. And he’s actually quite brilliant. He’s got some amazing plans for helping the people of Gotham. Unfortunately, there were events during his time missing—”

“I’d… heard… about the traumatic brain injury,” Superman interrupts.

“Oh. Oh, good, then. How much do you know?”

“That it supposedly triggered a personality change. That he has a hard time staying focused on one topic before flitting to another. That he has poor impulse control and a volatile temper.” The Man of Steel smiles faintly. “I can vouch for that last one, though I can’t blame him for his triggers. He seems very protective of you.”

“We spent nearly two years together in a place where the only people we could trust was each other.”

He nods, face grave. “I wish I could have known about you two sooner.”

Veronica shrugs. “Superman, I don’t know about you, but from the moment I found out you existed, I’ve known one thing is true, and that’s that you can’t save everyone. I’ve done a lot of research into your exploits, ever since I recognized your photo and realized you were Clark Kent, and I feel like you’ve done a lot of good. But no one person can be all that is good in the world—and no one should be. So as Brucie is so fond of saying, we were kidnapped. It happens. You don’t owe us anything.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you figure it out?”

Veronica snorts. “Seriously? You wear your hair differently, then put on a pair of glasses and a suit that’s a size too big for you. That’s your idea of keeping your identity a secret? How do people _not_ see through it?”

He smiles sheepishly. “Honestly? I don’t really know myself. It’s just worked, so I don’t mess with a good thing.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Please don’t tell me your approach to safety is a reliance on luck and people’s general obliviousness, simply because they haven’t failed you in the past.”

He fidgets, even hovering in midair as he is.

“Will you be telling Mr. Wayne? Or anyone else?”

“I won’t tell Bruce,” she says, and doesn’t add _because he knows already_. “But if he figures it out, that’s not my fault.”

“Agreed.”

“And while I will keep your secret to the best of my ability, there will be two situations where I will absolutely give you up. The first is if you go rogue and start killing people. The second is if an innocent person’s life is in imminent danger as a consequence of my keeping your secret.”

“I would certainly hope that you would follow your conscience in these situations, Ms. Mars.”

“Call me Veronica,” she says. “And you haven’t heard anything yet. What’s with the lame-ass cover story?”

He looks at her like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. “Pardon me?”

“What’s with your cover story? Smallville? Really? Even if I hadn’t recognized you, if I’d looked into your background even casually, I would’ve been instantly suspicious. The paperwork for your adoption records was suspiciously unprofessional. Also, your school photos show you without your glasses.”

He blushes.

“Now I’m not saying you’re a total incompetent at this whole secret identity business,” she says, then pauses. “No, actually, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Give me a little time. I’ll fix it for you. My best friend is a really decent hacker, and she’s already cleaning up your digital trail.”

Superman startles. “She knows about me too?”

“Well, duh. Still, she can be trusted. So can I.”

He crosses his arms. “And I’m just supposed to believe that? At least I’ve met you.”

“Come to breakfast and meet her. We’ve known who you were for a few days now, and neither the government nor the press has been knocking on your door.”

“I’ll grant you that.”

“So you’ll come to breakfast? You do eat, right? I saw you eat that scone the day of the interview. Though my research seems to point toward sunlight as a source of power for you?”

“Yes, I eat, but mostly because I enjoy it. I can eat pretty much anything, even stuff that’s poisonous to people. But it’s mostly all like junk food that doesn’t have any negative effects on my body. If I really need to recharge, I just go out in the sun for a bit.”

She tilts her head. “Like photosynthesis?”

“You know, I never really thought about it that way, but that actually makes a lot of sense.”

“Do you get weak at night?”

He shakes his head. “No, but if I’m injured and need to recharge, I’d need to use sunlamps or fly up into the atmosphere. Or speed to someplace where it _is_ daytime.”

“Why aren’t you training to use your powers better? And I realize that you also do a lot of rescuing and that sort of thing, but you do end up fighting bad guys half the time, so why aren’t you getting trained in tactics for various environment?”

Superman apparently does marvelous impressions of undersea life. Right now he looks to be impersonating a guppy. “I’m sorry?”

She sighs, then runs through Bruce’s assessment. Because she’s decided to rip the bandage off, she adds her own thoughts to the matter as well and, for good measure, points out all the ways things could have gone wrong, had Bruce, Shiva, or she herself failed to act as they had.

By the time she winds down, he’s pale and just a little bit green. “You’re… a little bit terrifying, you know? I can’t believe you’re twenty-one.”

She shrugs and smirks. “In experience and wisdom, I’m much older,” she says, but softens it with a smile.

“What do you recommend I do to improve?”

Her smile widens. _Good boy_. Then sobers. “First, get to know your enemy? I mean, it helps to know the tools you’re up against. You aren’t a killer, so you’re going to need to help the cops out when you turn criminals over to them. I saw the video of what you did last night. You crumpled most of the guns, but you melted one. If they can’t identify the gun or place it in the hands of a shooter, it’s gonna hurt the cops’ case.”

She sighs. “Knowing how to make sure the evidence is admissible and useful is one of the things I struggled with. If I’d known then what I know now, there would’ve been so many things I would’ve done differently in the Lilly Kane case. And maybe Aaron Echolls would still be rotting in prison somewhere.”

He nods. “That makes sense.”

“You’re a reporter, which means research is basically your life, right?”

He laughs. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.”

“It’s the same with a PI. So it should be fairly simple for you to ask to learn stuff from forensics guys, maybe ask for a ride along with your local PD to get a sense of how cops work. Bet you could find a ton of topics to pitch to your editor that would work with the stuff you need to learn.”

“I will, I promise.” He frowns. “What did you mean about aerial maneuvers.”

“Well, I kind of slowed down the video of what you did last night, you know? And I’ve watched some other videos of you on the internet. I notice you basically fly straight in for an attack, like a missile or something. Or you land in front or behind someone before throwing a punch. It seems to me that if you can fly, depending on your precision, you should be able to do a lot more than what you’re doing.”

Superman frowns. Veronica rolls her eyes. “Think about it. Most humans are limited by gravity. You are not.” She waves toward his feet, which are hovering several inches above the ground. “You could probably watch the science channels and learn a lot about attack strategies from watching sharks hit their prey, for example. Or you could talk to fighter pilots.”

She looks thoughtful. “You’re coming to breakfast, right?”

He nods.

“As Superman, since Bruce has already seen you?”

He nods again.

“Okay, then. One of my friends is visiting, but he is currently a student at the US Navy Officer Candidate School, and he’s on track to become a fighter pilot. I’m sure he could at least point you in the direction of people you could talk to or demonstrations you could watch. Then you can ask my dad about police procedure and Mac about covering your trail on the internet.”

All of a sudden, he stiffens.

“What?” Veronica frowns.

“There’s a ship in trouble in the North Sea.”

She smiles. “Go. If it takes you a while to come back, I’ll save you a plate of a little of everything. Nothing Alfred makes is less than scrumptious.”

“Thanks,” he says, as she watches him leave.

When he gains sufficient altitude, there’s a large boom as he breaks the sound barrier, and she shakes her head. She makes a mental note to ask him later how fast he can fly, then goes to freshen up in time for breakfast.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

He’s back forty-five minutes later.

“That was quick,” she says, when Alfred leads him to the table.

Everyone but Bruce stops to stare. Darrell especially—his eyes bug out and his mouth drops open upon seeing the alien float into the room just as everyone is about to take their seats. Wallace is not that much better.

“The ship just needed a little help getting out of rough waters. I’d have been here ten minutes ago, but I was dripping wet and went home to change.”

“Bummer,” Veronica says. “Laundry must be a bitch for you to do, what with fighting fires and rescuing ships on a regular basis.”

Superman shrugs. “‘He must needs go that the devil drives.’”

“Where’s that from?” Veronica frowns.

“Shakespeare. _All’s Well That Ends Well_.”

Logan coughs.

“Got something to add, flyboy?” Veronica asks, grinning.

“Ah, technically, the idiom predates Shakespeare by a couple hundred years or so.”

Superman grins widely. “It does. Lydgate’s _The Assembly of Gods_ from the 15th century is probably the earliest known use of it.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Word nerds,” she teases. “Superman, meet Logan Echolls, surfer boy and literati extraordinaire and currently a pilot-in-training at the US Navy’s OCS.” She then proceeds to introduce the alien to the rest of the people at the table.

“You’re Superman,” Darrell breathes.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Kent says with a charming smile.

“Why is Superman at breakfast with us?” the boy demands of the rest of the room.

Veronica shrugs. “He helped us out last night and had some questions about what happened. So I thought we might as well do it over breakfast.”

“Quite right, Miss Veronica,” Alfred says. “Would you like coffee, tea, or freshly pressed orange juice, Mr. Superman?”

“Ah, it’s just Superman, I guess. Or, actually, I’m Kal-El of the House of El, but you can call me Kal.” He smiles broadly. “That’s the name I was given when I was born.”

“Very good, Master Kal,” Alfred says.

“Can the rest of us call you Kal as well?” Brucie muses. “Although I do like saying the name ‘Superman.’”

“Sure,” Superman grins, an eager-to-please puppy dog. “You can call me whichever you like. I answer to both those names.”

After the initial awkwardness caused by the rest of the family’s surprise at having a red-caped alien at the breakfast table, which is helpfully dispelled by Veronica’s top-form snarking, Superman ends up fitting right in with the group.

Logan is more than happy to talk about his love of flying, mentions a few airshows the Man of Steel might be interested in. He speaks animatedly of his mentor and is happy to offer an introduction to Dr. Galway next time he returns to Neptune, if Superman is willing to make the flight.

“It doesn’t actually take that long to fly to California from Metropolis,” he says sheepishly.

“I heard you break the sound barrier when you left this morning,” Veronica says. “How fast do you go?”

He looks thoughtful. “I don’t really know,” he says. “I’ve flown alongside planes going at Mach 5 or 6 before, but I know I can and have gone faster than that. I’m not really sure how that would be measured.”

“Tony might know,” Bruce says. “I can ask when I see him next week. He used to make fighter jets for the air force, I think.”

Keith nods. “Before his big announcement to pull out of weapons manufacturing,” he says. “I’m not sure if he’s got a market for jets without the necessary weaponry.”

“Dad, I mentioned to Kal that some of the things he does, like melting guns he takes off perps, might hurt rather than help the cases against them. He was asking me for advice to help make sure the bad guys get locked up and stay that way, and I told him he should ask you.”

Keith is obviously flattered, and offers to walk Kal through a few basic protocols and procedures for securing a crime scene, so the alien can be careful not to mess things up for the forensic investigators.

“Maybe after breakfast?” Alicia suggests, rolling her eyes when Keith starts to wax eloquent.

“Sounds great,” Superman says, smiling.

“Mac, I also promised him we’d walk him through some of the internet safety stuff we discussed before.”

“Sure, Bond.”

“You all are so nice and helpful,” Superman says later, a little sentimental as he watches Veronica roll dough balls into a sugar-cinnamon mix for her famous snickerdoodles. He and Keith are talking forensic protocols for different types of crime scenes over a cup of coffee.

Veronica rolls her eyes. “No need to pull out the Kleenex, Kal. We just want you to stop fucking up.”

“Veronica!” Keith scolds. “Don’t be rude.”

Superman laughs. “Well, I appreciate it either way.”

“Then your appreciation is appreciated.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Superman spends the rest of the morning at the Manor, though he occasionally would disappear to see to some emergency or another. At one point, he comes back with a kitten in his arms, wrapped in a corner of his cape, and Veronica can’t help but roll her eyes.

“People joke about you and your kitten rescues, but are you for real?”

The Man of Steel smiles sheepishly. “I like animals.”

“Clearly.”

“Would you like to keep her?” He looks around, sees no one in their immediate vicinity, Wallace and Darrell having volunteered to fetch a bowl of water and food for the stray. “I could take her home to Ma and Pa, if not, so no pressure. We can always use mousers on the farm, and they’re used to me bringing them kittens and puppies, sometimes even ducklings.”

Veronica snorts. “We have a pit bull at home. I don’t think he’d appreciate the company.”

Kent looks a little disappointed, but shrugs, stroking the kitten’s head. The tiny thing was pure white with deep blue eyes.

“So you rescued this… what, out of a tree?”

“Snow drift, actually. I was on my way back from helping find skiers trapped by an avalanche in the Sierra Nevada when I heard this little girl mewling.”

Veronica turns her head at a slight movement at the corner of her eye and sees Bruce and Shiva approaching.

“Sheila!” she says, smiling broadly. “I’m glad to see you looking well this morning.”

“And I you, Ms. Mars.”

Veronica waves a hand. “I thought we agreed you’d call me Veronica.”

Shiva smiles. “Veronica.” She inclines her head. “I was just telling Mr. Wayne—Bruce—here that a mutual acquaintance of ours has threatened him with bodily harm if there is ever any truth to the rumors about your relationship.”

Veronica snorts. At Kent’s curious look, she shrugs, recalling the cover story Bruce had come up with for Shiva’s presence as a mystery bodyguard. “Sheila was introduced to us by a man whose acquaintance I’d made while looking for Bruce. He and Bruce had some dealings together, and when we came back from the dead, he sent Sheila to us with glowing recommendations.”

“I’m glad he did,” Superman says earnestly. “That was a brave thing you did last night, Ms. Soo. I wouldn’t have been able to manage without a few casualties if you and Mr. Wayne hadn’t acted so quickly.”

“I was merely doing my job,” Shiva says mildly. “Veronica, _Ray_ asked after your health. I’m told to tell you that he misses having a kitten about the house.”

Superman looks down at the ball of fur in his arms. “Do you think he would want this one?”

Veronica starts to snicker. Bruce shakes his head at her, but she is already smiling in glee. “You know what, Superman? I think he might at that.” She tilts her head up at Shiva. “Do you think you could get this kitten to him, Sheila? You could tell him it’s a gift from me. He could even name it after me, if he likes.”

“Nica, I’m not sure he’s the best guy to give a pet to—”

“Well, Brucie, he _stole_ his last _kitten_ , remember? I’d rather he didn’t do that, when this one looks like it needs a home. Doesn’t she, Superman?”

The Man of Steel is nodding. “She does indeed, Veronica. And I thought you were calling me Kal?”

“Yes, Kal,” she says obediently, and smiles.

“Nica—”

“I will send him the cat,” Sheila interrupts. Veronica rewards her with a blinding smile. Shiva’s lips tighten in response. “He may indeed decide to name it Veronica, especially if she proves to have sharp claws.”

Just then, Darrell comes back into the room carrying a tray with two bowls on it. Logan is following closely behind, obviously to keep an eye on the boy. “Wallace got roped into helping his mom out with lunch prep,” he says. “Alfred let us steal one of the cans of salmon for the cat.”

Superman tries to extract the kitten from his cape in order to set it in front of the food bowls, but it protests the relocation, digging its claws into the material. “Guess that answers our question about claws,” he says cheerfully as he carefully pries the kitten out of his cape and sets it on the floor.

Bruce snorts. “You have no idea what you have just done.”

“Stop being such a negatron, Brucie,” Veronica says, watching as the kitten approaches the bowls. “I think responsible pet ownership will do wonders for _Ray_ ’s disposition.”

Bruce shakes his head. “Only you, Nica. Only you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a comment on another chapter in this fic, @Irma66 mentioned thinking that Superman needs Veronica Mars in his life. That’s always been part of the plan, but I give a bit of a teaser to how that friendship develops in this fic. Mostly because goober Clark is fun to write.


	32. Endings and Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone heads to Neptune (except Logan because, you know, the navy). But first, Bruce has something to show Veronica.

Superman leaves shortly after lunch. Veronica spends her afternoon with Logan; they end up in the manor library after a brisk walk through one of the manor’s garden paths proves the outdoors too chilly for comfort.

They talk about Logan’s navy career, and Veronica tells him about her plans to enroll in Gotham University, about Bruce wanting to keep her on retainer at Wayne Security.

“My dad doesn’t know yet,” she says. “But I think he gets it. And Bruce needs someone to call him on his bullshit as much as Lilly ever did, so I want to stick close, at least for a while. He doesn’t have a lot of friends.”

“I’d worry about you here in Gotham, though.”

Veronica smirks. “Like you wouldn’t worry about me in Neptune?”

He sighs. “You have a point.”

“I also want to distance myself from Jake Kane. I’m supposed to meet with him next week to conclude our… business. But I think he’s going to try to get me to stay on, and he can get pushy if he really wants something. So it’ll be better for me and for my dad if I’m not there for him to put the screws to.”

Logan scowls. “Why did you end up working for him anyway?”

“I messed with something he could help with, so I owed him. We’re more than squared now, though.”

“You’re not going to tell me anything more than that, are you?”

“Nope.”

“The more things change—”

She laughs. “I’m still me. Plus none of it is relevant to the present or the future. I just don’t want to give him a chance to try anything. And I like Gotham.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Of course you like it. It’s the city where you’re most likely to run into trouble, and you’re Veronica Mars, trouble magnet.”

“I thought you said last night that I was a badass?”

“‘Trouble magnet’ and ‘badass’ are not exclusive states of existence.”

“You’ll come visit me, though? When you’re on leave? Or I could come visit you.”

“Just try and stop me.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Bruce treats them all to dinner that evening in some fancy restaurant. The press eats it up, and only a small army of personal security guys keeps the paparazzi at bay.

Logan teases her later that, despite the fact that he’s been recognized, he’s small fry compared to Bruce and Veronica. It’s such a huge role reversal from their high school and college years that Veronica has to laugh when he warns her against reporters masquerading as long-lost relatives.

That evening, Logan and Veronica talk more about books and flying. Veronica listens more than she talks—she’s afraid she’ll tell him just how much she identifies with his love of flying, given her own antics when she’d gotten her hands on the controls of one of the League of Shadows’ jets.

He tells her about another famous aviator whose books have inspired him: Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.

“He wrote _The Little Prince_ , right? I remember there was a pilot in that one,” Veronica says.

“Yeah, we had to read that book in seventh grade English class, remember? It’s his most famous book, but I recently read his novel _Night Flight_ and queued up his memoir, _Wind, Sand and Stars_ , on my Kindle. He was a military pilot rather than a civilian one like Markham was, so I’m looking forward to it.”

“Maybe I’ll pick them up too,” she says.

“Start with Markham’s,” he urges. “She really did remind me of you in some ways.”

“I will,” she promises.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

After lunch on Sunday, Logan flies back out to Newport. Keith, the Fennels, and Mac go to their rooms to pack, but Bruce asks Veronica to meet him out back, handing her a pair of sturdy boots and telling her to dress warmly.

He takes her out to a wooded section of the property, to an old well. “I want to show you something.”

“Is this where you fell as a child?” Veronica asks as she spots the rope bolted to the top of the well. Bruce removes the board covering it. “When you thought you were being attacked by a colony of bats?”

“It was a few meters in that direction—” he gestures to a spot deeper in the woods “—but it’s the same cave system.”

She starts to snicker. When he raises an eyebrow at her, she grins and says, “Dude. You’re going to be a vigilante who dresses like a bat. Whose HQ is a literal bat cave.”

“Your point?”

“No point, just enjoying how all-out you’re going with your theme.”

“I am merely committed. We should head down as we will be leaving in a few hours.”

He’s brought a bag filled with climbing equipment, and he hands her a helmet, harness, and gloves. He double-checks her gear when she puts it on, and she rolls her eyes. “I did pass the initiation for the League. I know how to put on a harness.”

“Better secured than surprised,” is all he says.

So she steps forward to check his gear, which has him huffing in impatience.

“Better secured than surprised,” she says sweetly, ignoring his glare.

They rappel down to what turns out to be a larger cave system than Veronica had imagined. “I can’t believe there’s an honest-to-god waterfall in here,” she says in awe.

“Hnn. The main cavern should be sufficient for a base of operations. They connect to a couple of hidden passageways under the southeast corner of the manor. One of my forefathers made Gotham a stop in the Underground Railroad, and there are rooms that were used to house whole families, even a medical ward and common kitchen-and-dining area.”

“So you have secret doors and tunnels at your house?” Veronica shakes her head. “I feel like Nancy Drew.”

Bruce smirks. “Does that make me a Hardy Boy? The passageways are not all secure. Alfred is using my return as an excuse to have the foundations shored up and secured, the rooms converted to storage spaces. We thought a second wine cellar might come in handy, especially as I have plans of reviving many of the events my parents had used to fund their charitable endeavors.”

“Well, a wine cellar certainly would come in handy to keep your high society guests well watered,” Veronica says drily.

“I thought so as well,” Bruce says mildly. “My new security consultant, Ms. Sheila Soo, also suggested strategically placed panic rooms and secret escape routes, seeing as Wayne Manor is such a well-known target for thieves and the like.”

“I’m sure she did,” Veronica murmurs.

“Work will begin tomorrow morning,” Bruce tells her. “Alfred has kindly offered to oversee it while Sheila and I fly with you to Neptune to inspect my new property there.”

“Sounds grea—wait. What?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“I still can’t believe you bought a house in Neptune,” Veronica says, shaking her head as they fly westward in the Wayne jet later that afternoon.

“Technically, I didn’t buy anything,” Brucie says, and Veronica suspects that self-satisfied tone isn’t entirely put on. “As you’ve pointed out several times, I’m still legally dead and not in a position to make large purchases, much less own property. Wayne Family Holdings recently acquired some real estate in Neptune and Metropolis to add to its portfolio. That’s all. Besides, where would I stay when I come to visit you?”

Veronica snorts. “There are these things called hotels.”

Bruce shakes his head. “I like my own space,” he says blithely.

“He’ll fit right in with the 09ers,” Mac says, giggling.

“Give me a day,” Brucie says loftily. “They’ll be fighting to fit in with _me_.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Veronica says wryly.

Bruce glances around, sees CJ, Keith and the Fennels are either sleeping or engrossed in in-flight entertainment. He looks at Veronica, Mac, and Shiva and tilts his head toward the dining cabin.

“Care for a snack, Nica?” he asks, pitched so everyone can hear him. “I’m feeling a little peckish.”

“Sure, Bruce. What have you got?”

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

“I could use some coffee myself,” Mac says.

The three of them get up and head toward the dining cabin, which boasts a sleek kitchenette on one side. Shiva follows silently and closes the door behind them.

“I’m guessing Bruce had a different reason for buying an 09er mansion?” Mac says, moving toward the coffee machine. “Or maybe the Bat did.”

“Hnn. Gotham is our primary mission, but from what Veronica’s told me, there’s no reason why cleaning up Neptune can’t be a side project,” Bruce says. “And as both your families are there, I would prefer you have access to a base of operations while on the West Coast. My Brentwood property in LA would be better equipped, but not convenient for you.”

“Makes sense,” Mac says, watching Veronica, who is pouting. “So why are Bond’s panties in a twist?”

Bruce smirks. “It has more to do with the, ah, location of the house I bought.”

Veronica huffs in annoyance. “He bought the place between the old Kane estate and the Echolls mansion.”

“Wasn’t that Sean Friedrich’s place?”

The blonde PI smirks at that one. “Here’s a bit of high school trivia for you: Sean Friedrich’s dad wasn’t actually the guy who owned the place. He was the butler.”

“What do you have against butlers?” Bruce asks, rummaging through the cabinets before giving up to peek in the fridge.

“Nothing,” Veronica says, smiling when Bruce pulls four ice cream cups out of the freezer and passes them out to each of them. “But this guy, Sean, pretended he was the richest kid in school, when really he was the butler’s son. I found out when I caught him stealing the pot from one of Logan’s poker games back in junior year.”

“Sad,” Mac says, shaking her head.

“What’s the plan when we land?” Shiva asks. She ends up passing Veronica half her ice cream when the tiny blonde scarfs down her chocolate chip cookie dough in record time.

“We bring everyone home and settle in for the night. The house I bought has a large sub-basement I’d like to convert into a training and operations area. The security system was overhauled earlier this week, but I’d like to run some infiltration scenarios individually and as a team to check its efficacy and identify the breaches I’ll have to patch manually.

“Mac, you’ll need to work with me on this to familiarize yourself with the protocols for setting up safehouses and bunkers. Shiva and I will also want to identify the best martial arts training for you. You will take classes, and additionally, Veronica will be tasked with training you until you move to Gotham, whereupon she and I will share the duty.”

“Okay,” Mac says, a little startled by the flood of information and orders. “I can come over whenever I’m not in class or working out the remaining hours of my internship. I’m not sure how much training I’ll need, though. I mean, I won’t ever be joining you in the field.”

“Command centers can be infiltrated. Better to be able to defend yourself and never encounter the need to do so than find yourself in danger without the means to keep from being harmed.”

“Uh. Okay.”

Veronica pats her friend’s shoulder comfortingly and glares at Bruce, who just raises his eyebrow at her. She bares her teeth at him and is about to warn him off when the pilot’s voice comes over the announcement system, telling them the plane is on final approach.

The group makes its way back out into the main seating area. Soon, everyone is strapping in as the jet makes its final approach and lands on a private airstrip just outside of Neptune.

Fifteen minutes later, Veronica is standing at the top of the stairs leading to the tarmac, staring at her first view of the California sunset in almost two years. She blinks away tears.

“Welcome back, sweetie,” Keith says, coming up behind her to engulf her in a bear hug. “You’re home. It’s over.”

Veronica’s blue eyes meet Bruce’s over her father’s shoulders.

 _No_ , she thinks with a determined light in her eyes. _It’s just beginning_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it’s a wrap for my first posted fanfic ever! Thank you everyone for reading and commenting. I’m working on the next volume in this series—I’ve outlined several more covering the partnership of the World’s Finest, the formation of the Justice League, and the advent of the BatFamily, as long as a LoVe story, although I’m not sure if they’ll be as long as this one. 
> 
> Then again, the original draft for this was about half the length it ended up being, so who knows? I will post when I finish things (I’m not sure I’d be the type to post chapters as I write the story because I tend to like going back to fix things as I identify problems that crop up in latter chapters). 
> 
> I wrote this entire fic without a beta reader, and I’m not sure how beta reading works in fanfic, so whether I get one or not, I’ll be happy to post my stories. If you’d like to volunteer for the craziness, though, I’d be keen on getting reader experience—and happy to return the favor for VM or Batman/JL fics. My Twitter and email deets are in my A03 profile if that’s the case.
> 
> Again, thanks for sticking with my fic this long!


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